Music of the Heart
by ChelsieSouloftheAbbey
Summary: My take on the struggle for one stoic butler and one hopeful housekeeper to eventually find their way to one another. Introspection, angst, comfort and love that will, eventually, conquer all. Set during Season 5, veers slightly AU. Cover art by the lovely brenna-louise!
1. Chapter One: Feelin' the Same Way

**UPDATED Author's note: Millions of thanks to the tumblr fandom for supporting me, and especially to klswhite, olehistorian and silhouettedswallow for questions answered and beta magic. (I now understand the term!) It's been over twenty years since I've done any sort of creative writing, so be gentle with me. :) I'm still learning the ropes. Not my characters, but really, don't we all think of these two as our babies?**

**There is a playlist for this entire story. Go to Spotify (free download), find "ChelsieSouloftheAbbey" and select the story name "Music of the Heart." All of the songs for this fic are there.**

**This starts off with quick, shorter chapters but makes its way into more in-depth ones as the storyline progresses. **

**Enjoy! Please drop a little review in my Inbox if you feel so inclined. :)**

**xx**

* * *

_Another day that I can't find my head,_

_My feet don't look like they're my own._

_I try to find the floor below to stand - _

_I hope I reach it once again..._

**_-Norah Jones, "Feelin' the Same Way"_**

* * *

Charles woke at dawn, as usual. His eyes opened slowly, trying to shake the dream he'd been having. Remnants of it still played in the corners of his mind. _Beach … water … waves … warmth … music? Yes … _The stirrings of his neighbors in the hallway told him he should rise, but as butler he had a bit more freedom in the morning. He took a couple of minutes to gather his groggy thoughts. The sun was creeping in the window slowly, with all its promise of a new day … of new beginnings. He was already dreading it, because he now knew the sun would only bring one more day of living with the fear that the butler was fighting a losing battle to stifle the man inside. That never seemed to be a problem before, Charles thought. _It's a problem NOW __though, isn't it?_

One benefit of living a life in service was that the days themselves didn't change much. Rise, serve, take wine deliveries, eat, sleep and repeat. The routine was soothing for the butler, but the irony of his situation did not escape him. With all of the repetition life brought, things were changing. The man inside was beginning to realize that his life had been altered, despite how it looked to the outside observer, yet the butler believed he could still control it all. His control had enabled him to build a life from the ground on up, and he was proud of what he'd achieved: a solid career; a family watching out for him even if they weren't his own flesh and blood; respect from those around him near and far; a sizeable nest egg thanks to good investments; and now, a property. _A home?_

Oh, a home. While the walls of the stately Abbey had indeed been his home for decades, there were times when he still felt he did not belong. He was always aware of a niggling conundrum. This was his only place to be, and as much as he thought he'd breathe his last dressed in livery, as the years progressed the butler realized that, one day, he'd be forced to retire. Perhaps it would be due to the changing economic management of Downton, or perhaps one day he'd find the tray too heavy to lift, the hours too long to remain on his feet. Standards would always need to come before any desire he had to remain past his prime. So the idea of purchasing an investment property that would eventually serve as his home was typical of the _butler_: it was responsible, intelligent, and well thought out. The actual _doing _of the deed, he realized now, had stemmed from the essence of the _man_, from the shaking inside of him that had gone unacknowledged until recently. Charles now realized that the purchasing of this cottage – what it stood for, what it represented – produced an unusual feeling of dread.

After returning from his time on the stage and committing himself to a lifetime in service, Charles thought he knew what he wanted. He craved the structure service provided, and he knew that despite his advancing years he was still meeting the standards of the current Earl of Grantham and wouldn't be forced into retirement quite yet. Decisions about the running of the house were still made swiftly, footmen were polished and professional, and even Mr. Barrow had been kept under some semblance of control under Charles's strong hand. The butler felt that his professional success could be attributed to a keen ability to keep himself to himself. In a profession where even touching another person was highly frowned upon, burying one's feelings had become second nature. Charles certainly _had_ feelings, but expressing them was rarely appropriate. His aloof nature made it easier to deal with staff members and not get involved personally in the lives and feelings of those who served beneath him. But it really did nothing to help with the feelings he had for the one who served _beside _him …

Charles had come to an impasse, for he had recognized at last that he had a difficult choice to make. He decided to ponder that later.

As he dressed, Charles was pensive. While he took pride in his job – Downton had become one of the best-run homes in all of England under the leadership of himself and Mrs. Hughes – these recent days were ones when Charles didn't know how he'd made it through all the hours of his life. He had been feeling decidedly off-kilter, as though he didn't even recognize himself at times. It had taken him a long time to identify the source of this feeling. Now that he had, he thought the feeling was getting worse. He had the same thoughts this morning as he had every morning in recent memory. _Get through the day, give nothing away, just get through the day as normally as possible._

Charles desperately needed a steadying hand but the hand he truly wanted, the one whose touch he felt in the most secreted-away corner of his quietly-loving heart, was the last thing that would actually help in his current predicament. He knew he couldn't pretend for much longer, hence the need for a decision. That hand, offered to help him feel steady on that lovely seaside afternoon, was the very thing that had shaken the butler to his very core. That soft, delicate, warm hand had been the thing that was beginning to make the man emerge from the buttoned-up butler. He could always control himself before in the presence of the melodious brogue, the blue hue of lovely eyes (_like the sea itself, deep and mysterious_), the contemplative chewing of the lip. But the feeling of the hand itself, with her pulse racing alongside his that day on the beach, had sent Charles into an unfamiliar territory from which there appeared to be no escape. His dreams, once fragmented and short, were now longer and more complex … and that tune that was now always in his head was inexplicable. Charles barely recognized himself, and found that while this terrified the _butler_, in some ways it exhilarated the _man_.

He supposed he truly _had _come to a decision then, because he knew that this internal battle could not go on much longer. For better or worse, he had a plan in place. He'd never had such little faith that things might go the way he wanted, the way he planned. With this dream and thoughts still haunting him, but with the staff breakfast now rapidly approaching, the butler headed downstairs to begin the rest of his day.


	2. Chapter Two: One Flight Down

**A/N: Aaaaand, we're off and running! This one is Elsie's POV, and was easier in many ways for me. My undying gratitude to _silhouettedswallow_ for beta services rendered! She reins in my wordy ways, and you all benefit!**

**Thanks also go out to those of you who have reblogged on tumblr, and to those who have left encouraging reviews for me. I'm glad you like the story so far, and it's shaping up to be a bit longer than I had planned…hopefully that works! **

**Just a reminder: The entire playlist for this story is on Spotify, listed under "ChelsieSouloftheAbbey" for Username and "Music of the Heart" for the playlist title.  
**

**Reviews are so appreciated - thank you!**

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_One flight down, t__here's a song on low_

_And your mind just picked up on the sound,_

_Now you know you're wrong,_

_Because it drifts like smoke_

_And it's been there, playing all along..._

_Now you know...Now you know._

**_-Norah Jones, "One Flight Down"_**

* * *

Elsie woke slowly from her deep and peaceful slumber. She opened her eyes, gradually letting them adjust to the darkness. The embers in the hearth gave a gentle, orange glow to the far corner of the room, but outside the sun was just barely beginning its slow ascent.

Elsie loved the quiet time she had in the mornings. As a young girl she had always woken before dawn, because not all farm chores waited for the sunrise. It had proven to be an impossible habit to break, which served Elsie well as a housemaid, but as housekeeper it allowed her a bit more time to herself. Time alone was golden in a house as busy as Downton, and for Elsie it could only be found in these earliest moments of the day. Well, there were the late evening hours too … but she was loathe to give those up to anything.

Slowly, she turned over toward the window, enjoying a leisurely stretch, and tried simultaneously to pull herself into a state of wakefulness and to cling to the last bits of her dream. Lately, her dreams all involved water … always water … but last night's dream had bits of one she hadn't had in decades. _The farm … Becky … the year the crops were thin … fear and shouts … then the rescuing rains that fell at last … a river … the ocean … warmth that enveloped her from within._ Elsie loved the rain, always had, and she knew that harkened back to those early years of her life when rain meant a bountiful crop, which meant steady food for their table and – when they were lucky – something to trade in the village. It meant easier times at home, and those had always been hard to come by. But now Elsie loved _any_ kind of water, not just the rain. She loved lakes, rivers, oceans, finding their depths peaceful and calming. She could get lost in them, and it was the reason she often found herself walking the grounds of the Abbey in these early hours, toward the little lake where few others seemed to venture. _Oh, but that ocean … _that bit of the dream had been recurring nightly as of late. As the sun reached Elsie's window, she smiled in delight at the memory from which that bit of the dream came.

* * *

Elsie had always been intelligent, and when she finally was able to leave the farm she never looked back. Knowing a life in service would be the best way to escape Argyll and also earn money to send home, Elsie dedicated herself wholeheartedly to her work, starting as a simple maid and working her way up the ladder. She'd convinced herself that a life in service, with all its constraints and difficulties, would be her future. She was fairly certain she'd never marry, particularly after turning down Joe Burns. A life in service, as a single woman, would perhaps be lonely, but Elsie believed it would be worlds better that the other option facing her, which could mean becoming her mother: tied down to a small, struggling farm – and struggling marriage – with no chance of escape. Joe really was a good man, and it had saddened Elsie to hurt him, but she had spent years dreaming of getting _away_. So, bags packed and good-byes said, Elsie headed in the complete opposite direction from that life she feared. She was prepared to be on her own, and knew she could make a go of it.

But then, years later, Elsie took the position of head housemaid at Downton Abbey, and fate placed Charles Carson in her life's path. Elsie smiled now, knowing that she'd fallen hopelessly in love with the stoic butler somewhere along the way; it was a sweet, wonderful, life-giving secret she had kept for years. When she was promoted to housekeeper, Elsie's life got even better as she found herself working side-by-side with the man she adored. It was the best of both worlds, for she had her work _and _had found happiness, and for many years Elsie was content to keep it all tucked safely into a little corner of her heart; she could love him without anyone knowing. His dedication to the family was sure, and she was certain he'd never leave them … or, by association, her.

But for the past few years, Elsie had a niggling feeling that Mr. Carson felt something a bit, well, _more_ for her. He couldn't possibly be in love with her, not by a long shot, but he was gradually letting her in to see the bits of himself that he rarely showed to others. Letting her see the _man _and not just the _butler_. He had been seeking her advice more, asking her for support, and their occasional sharing of a glass of sherry or port had become an almost-nightly event. He actually _read_ books she found interesting, not because he was truly interested in romantic or scientific novels, but because she asked it of him. She felt that she was getting to know the real Charles Carson and this dance they were doing, the relationship they were gradually developing, warmed her soul.

Given those circumstances, and the fact that the man had begun to emerge, Elsie did what she did best: slowly, very slowly, she _pushed_. She _prodded_. She chipped away flake by flake at the immense wall that surrounded the butler. _Her _butler. And bit by bit, she thought she was succeeding. The wall was starting to crack, especially at night in her sitting room or his pantry, helped along by a bit of relaxing drink. She felt that he'd become more at ease when it was just the two of them, and while this could certainly be attributed to being in the presence of a close friend and nothing more, Charles Carson was not exactly known for having friends. Elsie did feel some guilt knowing that she was not the only thing attacking this enormous wall; war, illness and death had also taken their toll on the protective shield the man held over his feelings, allowing Elsie to penetrate it more easily. There had been days when she was able to take his arm in a supportive gesture (_able to hold him up as he grieved for Lady Sybil …_) and days that she could only offer kind words or a quick wit and a supportive glance, but they were things she knew he would not accept from anyone else. She was never able to offer her embrace, or a gentle caress as she would have liked, but it had been enough.

And the day they went to Brighton! Elsie wasn't sure herself what had gotten into her, but she was ever so glad it did! She actually _held his hand_, his massive hand, in her smaller one (_'Go on, I dare ye!'_) and made him feel secure (_'You can always hold my hand if you need to feel steady.'_). He even admitted to _needing_ her safe, guiding hand. But the instant he took her hand in his, she was shocked by the sensation she felt. Instead of just steadying him, as she'd intended, the action – the _touching_– had completely _un-_steadied _her_. Elsie had never experienced that feeling as an adult, that strong surge of love (... _and passion? … Yes, that's what it was, no sense in shying away ... _), and Elsie truly would have fallen down in that water if not for _his _steadying presence. It was a life-altering event for her, and left her wanting more from a relationship that she'd been contented with just hours before. And judging from the look in his eye, the man she'd been trying desperately to find inside the butler was having a similar reaction. Maybe he'd felt steadied, but he seemed to also be … shocked.

The sun was coming steadily into her window now, and Elsie knew it was time to rise. She quickly washed and dressed, and headed out to begin her day. It promised to be a busy one, beginning with a meeting with Lady Grantham to discuss some quickly-upcoming travel plans. Since it was not quite time for breakfast, Elsie headed to the linen closet to gather some items for the maids' rooms and save one of her girls the trouble later on in the day. After that strange dream (_strange, then WONDERFUL dream … _), she really needed to focus on the day ahead and not on the feelings spilling out of her heart.

* * *

Dreaming of the farm always made Elsie think of her sister. _Oh, Becky, my dear lass, how I love you. _Since revealing Becky's secret existence, the girl refused to hide in the back of Elsie's mind anymore. It was a strange feeling, having Becky somewhat out in the open, but there was none of the shame she had feared. _Forty-five years of a secret, released to a new caretaker._ And he would care for the secret, for if Elsie was sure of anything in her strange, wonderful relationship with Charles Carson, it was his quiet care, his respect for her privacy and for what it had cost her to tell him this secret. Elsie had taken the two people she cared for most in the world and brought them together. She had thought it would hurt her dearly to do that, that she would lose something of the man she'd tried so hard to find, and so she was surprised that the decision did not break her but rather opened her heart to more than she was willing to claim for herself. She could see in his beautiful, deep hazel eyes that he'd recognized the risk she was taking in sharing this bit of herself. Elsie also wondered if he realized what his proposal for the purchase of a property had sounded like. _'Invest in a property' indeed! Had it been a subtle wish for more? Or are you just grasping at straws? One step forward, two steps back. Maybe you don't have him as figured out as you think._

Lost in her thoughts once again, Elsie pulled the last items off the shelf, and two very strange things happened to her. She suddenly felt cold all over, as though a ghost had walked over her heart, and moments later her ears picked up on a soft, rumbling melody drifting toward her. The tune was familiar, and somehow spoke of … _home_. Curious, and still somewhat stunned by the strange mixture of feelings she was experiencing, Elsie approached the top of the servants' stairs, trying to trace the source of the sound. As she made her way further toward the staircase, arms loaded with linens, she listened more closely, and her heart stopped. _No…there is NO WAY__ that is possible … _but she knew it was. _That song, how on earth … ?_

She knew in an instant that this was a turning point in her life, one of those moments spoken of only in novels, a moment of true _realization _in the face of all she thought she knew, all she thought she had understood about the man she dared only to dream would be hers one day. Those soft notes, a trembling tune that somehow carried up the staircase on the crest of his great, humming baritone voice … _Impossible_, she thought again. In the cabinet glass, Elsie caught a glimpse of her own face, aged sometimes in ways she didn't even recognize. Today, with the shock and the trace of a smile, her face only gave testament to her uncharacteristic _hope_. The sound she was hearing shook the ground she stood on. _B__ut_ _HOW_? Did that buttoned-up source of the music – the music that was reverberating in that hidden corner of her heart – even realize what it meant? Elsie made a fast decision: while they had not met for an evening sherry all week, she needed to see Mr. Carson this evening. She had to get to the bottom of this strange, wonderful music. She had to know if he realized its significance.


	3. Chapter Three: She's Got A Way

**A/N: More Charles. Please read and review, the reviews make me squeal when they show up in my inbox! I have a harder time getting into the lovely butler's head…let me know what you all think.**

**My undying thanks to silhouettedswallow yet again for BETA services.**

**As always, I recommend you listen to the song before reading each chapter…they set the stage. Go to Spotify, "ChelsieSouloftheAbbey" and find the playlist for this story.**

* * *

_She's got a way about her,_

_I don't know what it is_

_But I know that I can't live without her..._

**_-Billy Joel, "She's Got a Way"_**

* * *

The day had been busier than Charles had hoped, but that was nothing new this week. He had been hoping to make some progress of a personal nature today, to finally have a chance to sit and talk about the cottage, but they had been unable to meet to share a glass of sherry or wine for days. It had been a week where everything felt out of sync, and Charles couldn't tell if that was reality or just his own feelings creeping in. Staff members had been ill, tempers were short, and deliveries were late. An entire case of brandy was missing from the wine order, which meant a special trip to Ripon had been necessary and Charles had been the only one who could go. He was already down a footman due to the blasted flu, and after the wine situation before the war, sending Mr. Barrow had _not _been a viable option. To make matters worse, both Anna and Madge had been ill, which meant Miss Baxter was picking up _all _the ladies' maid duties, and Mrs. Hughes seemed to be everywhere picking up the slack. Staff tea was catch as catch can, everyone was exhausted, and it was all Charles could do to drag himself to bed at the end of each discombobulated day.

His dreams, however, continued to be a wonderful escape. He dreamed nightly of warm beaches, sunny days, and even … _retirement_. In his dreams the latter was not an independent venture. When he woke, however, the old insecurities and doubts came creeping back, and they got worse as each day passed. Who was he to assume anything? Who knew if she'd even _like _the idea of a home away from Downton, let alone a home with him? As the days went on, Charles felt less decided on his path and more apprehensive of the Scottish fury that could very well be unleashed in his general direction once he embarked upon his chosen path. _I've done nothing out of pity, not at all, but will she understand? Pity is the LAST_ _thing I feel. It's something … more._

Charles was finding that he couldn't keep control of his feelings in the way to which he was accustomed, and it unnerved him. He found that allowing the man to erupt out of the butler's façade had been like letting something enormous out of a tightly-packed box: there was no way to get it to fit back in the way it had once been. Every time he saw her, he was affected in new ways. Her presence steadied him at times and made him crazy with overwhelming feelings at others: if he was upset, a passing smile from her would calm him; if he felt finally in control, she would do something to distract him. A shared, quick look over breakfast or an accidental brush of the elbow at dinner would almost do him in completely; at times, he could barely concentrate on simple conversations. The way she walked, spoke, smiled, fretted, bit her lip, or tucked a loose strand of hair back into place when she thought no one was watching … it was like every action was new to him, yet familiar at the same time. He worried because she looked exhausted, but as he was feeling similarly fatigued he'd not even been able to have any type of normal conversation with her in days. _Maddening._

* * *

Charles made his way through the halls in a distracted daze, knowing he was short with the staff when they caught him unawares, but unable to help himself. Twice he found himself humming. He could not get the familiar melody from his dreams out of his head no matter what he did, and it only added to his discomfort and apprehension. Once, he even feared he'd been caught out, but then decided it was his imagination. _Thank goodness … THAT__ would be something to explain! Charles Carson does NOT__ hum._

The saving grace was that Lord and Lady Grantham were leaving the next day for an impromptu visit with Lady Rosamund. A flurry of activity and reorganization of schedules had finally led to a somewhat calm afternoon and evening. Charles knew the household would be quieter beginning tomorrow. With Lady Edith already planning to spend most of the week in London at the office, only Lady Mary and Mr. Branson (and the children, of course) would be home. And Charles knew of at least two meetings Lady Mary had scheduled away from the house. He hoped to use the quiet time to take a half-day (or, dare he hope, a _full _day) to get down to the cottage for a proper inspection. _And to have a certain meeting that has been put off for far too long now. _He looked for Mrs. Hughes as he headed down to the butler's pantry, but she was nowhere to be found. _Probably checking on Lady Edith once again, just to be sure she had everything ready. That housekeeper is a work horse if ever there was one!_

Charles entered his pantry lost in thought, and sat in his comfortable chair. It was old, fitted to his form like a glove. Despite its battered appearance, it was one of his most treasured possessions. Usually, being wrapped in the familiar leather calmed him, centered him, reminded him of his responsibilities and his joy in carrying them out, enabling him to focus on whatever task was set before him… but not tonight. Taking out his ledger, he intended to balance the entries for the liquor delivery that he'd finally managed to sort, but in his haste to open the book Charles knocked the corner against his ink well, tipping it over. Cursing quietly (or as quietly as his deep voice allowed), Charles began to clean up the spill. He was so frustrated at his uncharacteristic clumsiness, and upset at the waste of his favorite ink, that he did not notice Mr. Bates approach the doorway. At the sound of a knock, Charles looked up quickly.

"Mr. Bates! May I help you with something?" the butler asked, blushing at being caught in a puddle of inky mess.

"Actually, Mr. Carson, I was going to ask you the same thing. Please, let me help you with that," Mr. Bates replied as he entered the room.

Slightly embarrassed, Charles mumbled a "Thank you, I'd be very grateful." Then, a moment later, he continued. "I'm not sure I feel quite myself this evening, I fear it may be a sign that I need a bit of rest … and I'll deny ever having said that outside these walls, Mr. Bates," Charles said, looking the other man in the eyes.

"Point taken," replied the valet, smiling softly.

Mr. Bates finished wiping up the excess ink as the butler wiped down the well, replacing both it and the ledger to their proper places. Clearly, Charles realized, he was in no fit state to accomplish anything this evening.

Upon finishing these final tasks, Mr. Bates spoke. "Mr. Carson … if I may enquire … are you feeling quite well this week? You seem as if you have the weight of the world on your shoulders."

Charles smiled a half-smile and replied, "Not quite, Mr. Bates, but enough of it."

The valet started at the memory of an identical conversation he'd had years back, when he was most definitely not feeling well and was in desperate need of a confidant. Mr. Bates moved to the door and, in an uncharacteristic move, shut and locked it.

He returned to Charles's desk and took a seat. Realizing that he had not expressly been invited to stay, he said, "I do not mean to be presumptuous, and I realize I am not the resident secret-keeper in this house, but it may be helpful if you allow me to share some of your burden. Is there any way I can help?"

As he uttered the words "secret-keeper," Mr. Bates saw a flush creep slowly up a very flustered butler's face. _Oh, my goodness … It appears Anna was right all along. _His wife had been hinting – _hoping _– for years that something might be afoot between the solemn butler and her beloved housekeeper, but tonight was the first time that the typically perceptive valet had seriously considered the possibility. It was widely known that Mrs. Hughes held the confidence of the entire staff, and goodness knows both he and Anna had benefited from her sage advice and trustworthiness in the past, but until this moment it had not occurred to him that the source of Mr. Carson's unease might have nothing to do with the functioning of the house itself, but rather be of a more personal nature. He was caught out, now unsure of where this conversation would be headed.

Charles saw a flicker of realization in Mr. Bates's face, and wondered if he were actually as hard to read as he'd once thought. He also knew that he had an opportunity not often presented to him: the chance to develop a closer relationship, even a friendship of sorts, with a male staff member. John Bates was perceptive, calm, and calculated in his actions. He did not gossip, and he had the trust of Lord Grantham. The position of butler could be so isolating at times. Charles realized that, after his failed friendship with Grigg and his own rising to the superior position he held at the Abbey, he had not truly had another man in whom he could confide (except, occasionally, for His Lordship) in decades. It never bothered him before, for the simple reason that he'd had no previous dilemmas that he couldn't handle on his own. Charles made a split-second decision. _Yes, I could see John Bates as a friend one day. Another sign you're going mad, old man … all these fast decisions. _But he knew it was true.

"I'm touched by your thoughtfulness, Mr. Bates, and cannot say how much I appreciate it. I do respect your ability to keep a confidence, and I know that others do as well," he started.

Mr. Bates was flattered by his trust, but said nothing. The million thoughts running through the butler's mind were visible in his eyes to anyone who cared to look.

Charles continued, haltingly. "Have you ever noticed that, when a decision – a crossroads, if you will – is weighing heavily upon one's mind, there is a fear that comes with each of the choices, but that is nothing compared to the fear of _failure _once the chosen plan is set into motion?" He paused, weighing his thoughts and deciding how much to reveal. "I feel myself in … well, a sort of 'in-between,' I suppose … I have committed to move ahead with something, but I am unsure whether I've made a wise decision." He paused and said with a smirk, "It is a rather unusual place to find myself."

Mr. Bates pondered the great man before him. Being a valet was a lonely position to hold within a house. The valet did not rank equally with butler, nor with even the under-butler, yet a Lord's valet had his express trust in a way that no other staff member had, save perhaps the butler himself. Both valet and butler were professions that could involve a great deal of secret-keeping, or not, depending on the Lord whom one served, but being valet was a job of such an intimate nature that no other staff member shared or understood its challenges. Friendships were hard to come by in service, but perhaps even more so for a valet or a butler as neither had an equal in the household. For all the gratitude he had for Anna – who had seen his true nature, and blessed him by becoming his wife – Mr. Bates realized he had no men with whom to share his own personal thoughts. He knew he could trust His Lordship with his life because he'd actually done that years ago, but there were some days when he was fearful of crossing the professional boundary with his employer.

Mr. Bates was cautious about giving advice to anyone in a general sense, and he would have preferred more information now, because he knew that once Mr. Carson made any decision he would see it through to its end. With the butler's words, however, Mr. Bates recognized a tentative shift in their relationship. He proceeded with confidence.

"I do know the feeling, Mr. Carson, and I do not envy you in the slightest." He paused, and then continued with some trepidation. "May I speak freely?"

"Please do," Charles replied with a nod.

"Thank you. I'm guessing that this … _decision _of which you speak … weighs heavily upon your mind, your _heart_, because you fear the effect it will have on … someone else?" Mr. Bates said slowly.

Charles looked at him sharply, but said nothing. He questioned whether he'd been right to confide in Mr. Bates at all, but remembered the trust that he, Lord Grantham, Mrs. Hughes and Anna had placed in him in the past. Charles knew that, should he desire one, Mr. Bates would indeed show himself to be a true friend and, quite possibly, an ally. It seemed this conversation was to be a watershed moment for a variety of reasons.

Mr. Bates continued, "In my experience, these concerns – though valid – are often made worse by the simple fact that they grow and fester when dwelled on endlessly." He waited for what seemed like ages before speaking further, lowering his voice when he did so. "_Speak_ to her, Mr. Carson. She probably already knows there is something amiss. Can't she already read your moods, decipher your habits, your likes, your dislikes? Can't she anticipate your feelings, and even ease your burdens, calm your fears? Have faith, Mr. Carson. You are a man who knows yourself, and who knows how to tread cautiously when needed."

Charles sputtered for a moment, coughing to collect himself and looking nervously at the door in case someone happened to hear. _Why not just shout it from the rooftops?! _He was not at all calmed by the fact that everything Mr. Bates had just spoken aloud had been running through his head for ages. Yes, just looking at her could sometimes soothe him, just as a look from those deep, blue eyes could send him careening into an abyss. But there was something about her that was steadfast and true, and he knew then – _really, how could you have doubted? _– that regardless of which way this entire situation with the cottage played out, his feelings would be cared for. She may sputter, spew words of accusation, or be utterly silent but, in the end, they would talk things through. She would be careful with his feelings … she always was. And he would be steadied regardless of the outcome because he would no longer be shouldering his burden alone.

However, having himself laid out in front of the valet who sat before him unnerved Charles. "Mr. Bates, how could you possibly presume to know all of that?" he uttered.

Mr. Bates just smiled and said softly, "Because it's the same for me … and Anna."

With that, the valet rose from his chair, unlocked the door, and exited the room, leaving Mr. Carson to his thoughts.


	4. Chapter Four: Watershed

**A/N: Here it is, the companion to Chapter 3! We have officially entered into AU territory, starting with that conversation with Bates. My lovely beta, silhouettedswallow, asked whether or not Anna had already been arrested at the time of this story. Well…since I really loathed that storyline, I am simply choosing to pretend it never happened. Hope that's okay with everyone…no offense meant to Julian or his outstanding characters and writing.**

**Songs are on Spotify - username is ChelsieSouloftheAbbey, playlist is story title.**

**Thanks again for reviewing! Cheers!**

_They say that it's never too late, but you don't get any younger._

_Well, I'd better learn how to starve the emptiness and feed the hunger._

_Up on the watershed, standing at the fork in the road,_

_You can stand there and agonize, 'til your agony's your heaviest load._

_You'll never fly as the crow flies, get used to a country mile,_

_When you're learning to face the path at your pace_

_Every choice is worth your while._

_**~"Watershed," by the Indigo Girls**_

As much as Elsie had hoped to see (_interrogate_) Mr. Carson that evening about the song he'd been humming, it simply hadn't been possible. That day and the next few had proven ridiculously busy, as Anna, then Madge, then a third maid _and _finally one of the footmen had fallen ill with flu. Elsie had ended up changing bed linens, helping in the laundry, and doing a myriad of other things she had not dealt directly with in years. With no one else available, Miss Baxter and Elsie had to handle dressing and waiting on all three of the ladies upstairs, and with that task on top of her other duties, Elsie found she was constantly exhausted by dinnertime.

Elsie realized she wasn't the only one under duress. Mr. Carson had seemed short-tempered with the male staff all week, and the look in his eyes when they'd pass in the hall, or chat quickly at the few meals they managed to share, spoke volumes about his own stress. But now Lord and Lady Grantham were to spend a week away. Of course, that only added to the current work load. Elsie had to rearrange cleaning rotas to concentrate on the in-depth jobs that had to be accomplished when public rooms, such as the library, wouldn't see much use. _Bless Anna for volunteering to help. She must be mad with boredom after having spent so many days confined to her bed!_

This plan had led to two additional meetings with Lady Grantham and a third with Mr. Branson, who often used the library even when home alone. To make matters worse, Elsie knew from Mrs. Patmore that two of the week's supply deliveries had been missing items, and that because Mr. Barrow was filling in for the missing footman more of _his _duties were falling to Mr. Carson. _Uneasy lies the head that wears the crown, indeed, _Elsie thought with a chuckle. So when Elsie saw the butler in passing or at a meal, she recognized that the fatigue in his eyes mirrored her own, and by unspoken agreement each head of staff headed up to bed as soon as possible every night, foregoing their accustomed glass of sherry.

Elsie couldn't wait until Lord and Lady Grantham headed out in the morning, and as Lady Edith planned to spend most of that week in London, Elsie was sure the house would be much quieter and more relaxed for a while. There would be time for conversation soon enough. _And then what? It won't do to start something … you know how you despise an 'atmosphere.' Tread carefully, lass. For both your sakes …_

Elsie knew that she would have to approach her questions with extra care, and it made her nervous – a feeling with which she was distinctly unfamiliar, having always been steady and sure in times of trouble. This was not some unruly footman or an improper comment from a maid. No, this would be a new thing. Now her feelings were on the line. Elsie knew she did not want to be in disagreement with Mr. Carson, did not want a misunderstanding, did not want to be accusing or antagonistic or express any of the other fiery characteristics that so often came unbidden to her. However, she also did not want to keep her feelings to herself if there was a chance that they might be reciprocated, even in the smallest of ways.

The situation was eating her alive, making it hard to focus. Elsie had always felt she knew her own mind so well. She'd always been the sure one, the steady one, in their … _whatever it is now_. But this last week had been trying at best. For years, Elsie felt as though her feelings were one-sided, and she was okay with that. Then she had started working at finding that man she knew was still alive inside her butler, and she thought he was coming around at last. Since then she'd noticed something a bit more in his looks, his comments. He seemed to be speaking with a new facet to his voice, one that was a bit softer and more … _caring_. And when Elsie heard that snippet of music, it sang to her from deep within _him_, a rumbling sound given to a song once so sweet and pure. Elsie recognized the song instantly, there was no question, but the fact that it lived and sang in _his _mind threw all that she was sure of into a whirlwind of confusion. She had made a decision to address it, but this last week had her questioning herself once again. _Would it REALLY be so bad to let it lie, to let things remain as they are? _The man hadn't spoken another word about purchasing a property since she'd informed him of her situation with Becky, and she wondered if that meant he'd given up on the idea. _You could just spend the rest of your days here working alongside the man, couldn't that be enough?_

But when Elsie thought back on the past few years, on the tragedies of losing Lady Sybil and then Mr. Crawley so soon after, she thought about opportunities not taken, of time lost. _'We're getting on,' you said to him … and it's true, Els. All that lost time ..._ She wondered what she would ever do if she were to lose him, without ever having had the chance to truly, openly, love the man. Elsie decided once again that she must get to the bottom of this whole situation, ask about the song. She recommitted herself to her plan to move forward, to approach him and speak what was on her mind. When the house was calmer, emptier, she would approach him. If there was any chance at all that she could hope for something more to their friendship, for some kind of understanding, some discussion of feelings, Elsie would latch onto that with all she had.

Fragments of the past sped through her head as she descended to the dining area: _Don't tell me you'll miss me … I'm just a sad, old fool … They're all the family I'VE got … So much I could taste it. _That last bit made her falter a bit. Elsie knew she'd helped him to stitch up the old would that Alice left behind, but that didn't mean that she herself would measure up to the memory of that woman. She'd told him the truth as she saw it, that we all must have our hearts broken once or twice, she just wasn't sure if he'd be willing to risk it again. But Elsie clung to the one thing she knew above all else, the one advantage she'd had that she could offer him, the thing that calmed her rabid thoughts and fears: she would _never _consider leaving his side for as long as she lived, and she was fairly certain that he'd believe it if she told him.

Elsie checked to be sure everything was packed and ready for the Granthams' trip and then headed downstairs for a pot of tea before securing herself away in her sitting room to catch up on some bookkeeping. She was relieved to see Anna in the servants' hall, looking much better than she had all week. At the moment, Anna and Miss Baxter were in conversation, catching up and going over a few minor details for the upcoming week. Of course Anna would remain behind with Lady Mary but, since Miss Baxter had never traveled without another ladies' maid in attendance, she needed clarification on a few things. The housekeeper smiled at them, then retrieved her teapot from her sitting room, returning to the kitchen to fill it before heading back to her desk.

As she prepared her tea, Elsie reflected on the two women at the dining table. Miss Baxter was definitely an improvement over the last two people to hold her position. Elsie smiled at the thought of the aura of peaceful tranquility Miss Baxter spread to everyone around her. She was talented, calm and dedicated. She was a hard worker, the trait Elsie valued most in her girls, and she could be counted on to keep her own counsel, a quality all ladies' maids must have … _and one which both Miss O'Brien and Miss Braithwaite were lacking in spades._

_As for Anna … _Elsie sighed imperceptibly as she sat at her desk with her tea, pondering for just a moment the rush of feelings she had for the young woman. She mothered all of her girls to some extent, and many of the young footmen as well. So many had come to the house with nothing, and while a few came from good and loving families – like William Mason had – that was certainly not always the case. Elsie often felt that she and Mr. Carson were surrogate parents to all of their charges: both were strict but fair, and while she was often the more calming presence they were both well-respected. (Elsie knew for a fact that _she_ had more of Mr. Barrow's trust, but that was fine by her.)

Daydreaming still, Elsie remembered the first day she ever laid eyes on Anna. Elsie had been newly appointed as housekeeper, and it was her first time conducting an interview by herself. Anna had arrived at Downton with a good deal of baggage, and not the physical kind - of that she'd had barely any at all. She had looked at Elsie with eyes that were both haunted and strong. Her quiet voice, despite its timidity, spoke volumes. The girl presented a strange combination of confidence in her abilities as a housemaid and fear that she wouldn't get the job that she so obviously needed. Elsie hired Anna on the spot, feeling a kinship with the girl in front of her because she reminded the housekeeper of who _she_ had been long ago.

From her first day at the house, Anna gravitated toward Elsie as a student would toward a mentor. Elsie was gentle with her, yet expected a great deal. She could see the potential Anna harbored within herself to be truly wonderful at her job … perhaps a potential to succeed Elsie as housekeeper, even. She watched as the young woman blossomed before her eyes, and marveled at the effects that a warm home, a reliable supply of good food, and employers that cared about their staff were having on the new maid. Anna flourished and was head housemaid within the year. Save Becky, Elsie had never felt so proud of another person, yet it never occurred to her that Anna might harbor similar feelings of affection.

A knock sounded at her door. "Come in," Elsie called, startled out of her reverie. She was taken aback as the subject of her thoughts came striding into the room.

"I noticed you head in here, and wondered if you could spare a moment," Anna said.

"I can," replied the housekeeper, "Please take a seat. How are you?"

"Oh, so much better, thank you!" Anna replied. "I've some extra time to chat just now, as Lady Mary is having a lie-down. I daresay she needs it, poor Master George was up most of last night. It appears more teeth are on the way, although I'd quite hoped for her sake he'd be done by now."

Elsie was pleasantly surprised at Lady Mary's newfound maternal instinct. She attributed it to the hours that Mr. Branson spent with Miss Sybbie – much to the annoyance of the nanny – and, truth be told, Elsie was beginning to wonder if she had been wrong all these years, had judged the eldest daughter too harshly. Goodness knows she'd had words on the topic all too often with Mr. Carson, as it was no secret that he doted on "his favorite." Elsie had always preferred Lady Sybil's spunk and forthrightness and Lady Edith's intellect and quick wit. Lady Mary always reminded her of the Dowager, who also put Elsie off in a way she couldn't fully explain. Ironically, they were the only other two women besides herself (_sigh_) with whom, as far as she could tell, Mr. Carson seemed to share a unique relationship.

Elsie was curious about the history behind those relationships. In her darker moments, she had attributed it to both women being successful at manipulating the butler, with Lady Mary having convinced him that she was somehow more special, more entitled to his attention than her sisters. However, since the death of poor Mr. Crawley, Elsie had seen the young woman undergo a transformation. She now wondered if it was more an unveiling of the true nature that lay underneath the protective shell Lady Mary had built around herself … a technique which, when she thought about it, reminded Elsie of someone else she knew. _No wonder she gravitates toward Mr. Carson. She is so like him: hard exterior façade with a glimmer of a true, caring soul hidden deep within. They understand one another._ _But the Dowager – _she shook her head slightly – _there's no sorting that. _The man was simply caring, and his depths were likely more profound that even Elsie realized. His sweetness, thoughtfulness, trustworthiness, and dedication to those who he saw as important – _his family, _she thought sadly – were admirable. Elsie was overwhelmed at times by her feelings toward him, and marveled that she'd been able to hide them all these years, hide them behind conversations, glasses of wine, and dealing with the troubles of others. Her heart sang with the knowledge that, together, they'd handled the household as if they were a … _married couple_.

Though her thoughts took mere seconds, Elsie's distraction was not lost on Anna. "Mrs. Hughes … is everything alright?" inquired Anna gently. "I think I lost you there for a moment."

"Hmmm … I'm sorry? Oh, yes, I do apologize. I've quite a lot on my mind lately, which should not be interfering with our conversation. Please pardon me," Elsie said sheepishly.

Anna smiled back at her. "There's nothing to worry about, Mrs. Hughes. It can be nice to get lost in one's thoughts now and again."

Elsie was taken aback. She was used to managing her feelings in front of her staff, but now she saw a knowing look in Anna's eye that told her the girl was well aware that Elsie had been miles away. _You must be more careful in front of Anna, lass. It seems she's more perceptive than you realized._

Anna looked at Elsie quietly, wondering if the wonderful, warm suspicions she'd had since their trip to Brighton beach might truly founded in reality. The housekeeper _had _seemed a bit more joyful of late, with an extra little something in her step. And she'd been distracted at times. Of course, she'd been as demanding as always, but there was an extra twinge of kindness to her lately … particularly when seated around the table. Anna recognized the demeanor, because it was something she had noticed in her husband at the beginnings of their own romance. John had always been so stoic but, when he finally admitted his feelings for her, a light appeared in his eyes … a light that Anna was immensely proud of. The same light now shone in Mrs. Hughes's eyes and, more recently, in those of their resident butler.

Elsie watched Anna's face, and spied something she didn't recognize … _suspicion_, _perhaps? This will not do ..._ "Anna, _is _there something I can help you with?" she asked.

Anna smiled. "I came in to chat with you about the new schedule for the upcoming week, to see specifically how I can help as Lady Mary will be away in meetings for a good deal of time. But now, I wonder if you'd rather some time alone? I can come back later if you like." After a brief pause, and against her better judgment, Anna continued, "I can tell you have some … _things_ … on your mind, Mrs. Hughes. Please don't think me impertinent, but after all the help you've given me through this awfulness with Mr. Green, I'd just like to say that you seem a bit … _happier_ lately. It suits you."

Elsie could not believe the words that the girl uttered. Impertinent it was, but if there was anyone's opinion that Elsie valued nearly as much as Mr. Carson's, it was Anna's. And if Anna could read the thoughts on her face, then Elsie needed to be _much _more careful in her dealings with the young woman.

The housekeeper caught herself worrying her bottom lip, stopped immediately, and smiled fondly at Anna. "I won't chastise you this time, Anna … but I will simply say … thank you. Now, about those cleaning rotas?"

"Yes, well … " began Anna with a smile.

**A/N #2: **Bonus song, because it's fun and OH SO appropriate here! "Something There," from Disney's **_**Beauty and the Beast**_**. (The staff suspects! The "beast's" paw!) Consider it a nod to Dan Stevens and his new adventure if you wish…enjoy!**


	5. Chapter Five: Come With Me

**A/N: Welcome back, all! Thanks for continuing with me on this journey. If you're a newbie, remember to start at Chapter One, where all is explained. This would NOT be a good chapter to begin with.**

**Song choice for this chapter is one of my favorites, "Come With Me," by a little-known band called Brother Sun. Spotify playlist "Music of the Heart" listed under my username, ChelsieSouloftheAbbey. Give it a listen, then enjoy the chapter. **

**Once again, my undying gratitude to **_**silhouettedswallow**_**, who continues to make my seemingly never-ending drabbles more concise.**

* * *

_I feel the current raging around me,_

_Try to summon up my strength once more ..._

_But there you are, in the water with me,_

_You take my hand and guild me graciously._

_Will you come with me on this journey,_

_With every breath we take keep reaching for the dawn?_

_I know alone that I will falter, _

_But with a good friend near me I will carry on._

**_~"Come With Me," by Brother Sun_**

* * *

Lord and Lady Grantham departed in the morning, followed shortly by Lady Edith. The maids and footmen were all healthy once again, and extra cleaning and polishing duties had been assigned. Once again, Elsie and Charles had time to breathe. It was a welcome change.

Each noticed the other's distraction throughout the morning, but they had no time to address it. Finally, at lunchtime, Charles couldn't take it anymore. He stole a glance at Elsie and caught her attention. Raising an eyebrow in question, he shot her a pleading look, and she responded with a smile and a brief nod. Charles smiled in reply, marveling at how they could have meaningful, wordless conversations. _Yes, we will meet tonight. _

_It's time … but for what, exactly? _Charles still didn't know how to approach this conversation. He'd done the deed – he'd purchased an "investment property," which his mind kept referring to as _our retirement home_, and now he had to break it to his housekeeper. When he'd broached the topic with her, she'd been excited … then they'd visited different cottages that were for sale, and _he _had become more excited. He regretted having proposed the idea in such an innocent way. But then, it was distinctly possible that she'd seen his true plans before even he had realized them fully in his own mind … _and heart._

Charles was so afraid of offending Elsie, knowing that above all else she loathed being pitied. She was the strong one, always shouldering the burdens of others, even some of the family. _You need to approach this conversation with care, old man…_ Charles didn't buy the cottage because he wanted to rescue Elsie from her life. _No … you need HER to rescue you from YOUR __life … and you know she can. _

It was decided … _Y__ou'll have to just tell her the truth: you love her. At the end of the day, it's that simple. _

Charles felt like he was drowning. He didn't notice the bead of sweat trail down his brow.

* * *

Elsie kept glancing at the man she loved as he pondered his lunch. He appeared lost in thought, not actually eating but just picking at the food on the plate. _How unusual_. Noticing a bead of sweat slip down his forehead, and withholding herself mightily from wiping at it with her fingertips, she worried that he might be ill, that he might have worked himself too hard over these last few days. She thought of his stress attack during the war and wished fervently that they could both just retire … _together_. She scoffed at the thought – _really, the man has made it clear before that he will die in the butler's livery, haunting the house forever more. He could never leave "his family," not even for you._ After all, Elsie had no real indication that he'd even consider retiring with her. The cottage had been proposed as a simple investment, but was there truly an understanding that they'd actually _live _in it together one day? _Not really … not yet. _

Elsie touched his arm, feeling it tremble beneath her hand. She stole a glance around the table. The others were all thankfully lost in their own conversations, paying no attention to the heads of staff. She asked quietly, "Mr. Carson, is everything alright? You seem ill. I hope you've not caught that nasty flu."

Charles couldn't keep up with his emotions … in the span of not even a minute, he'd been happy to see her smile, nervous as he contemplated what to say tonight, then shocked and … _something else … _by her hand on his arm, and now touched by her concern. It was quite the whirlwind.

"I'm fine, Mrs. Hughes, thank you. Just not very hungry, I suppose."

Elsie raised a skeptical eyebrow, letting him know she didn't believe that excuse for a second. But she let the subject drop. _You'll just have to keep an eye on the man today, Els. Turn him away this evening if he looks no better. _That last thought hurt, but she knew she could do it if needed.

However, the rest of the day passed without incident. Charles appeared more or less returned to his normal self, and Elsie looked forward to their evening chat with mixed feelings of trepidation and joy. She needed to get to the bottom of the strange situation with that song, and yet she was so afraid of where her words would lead. She'd always been able to read the man's feelings so well, and was concerned that he, too, seemed preoccupied as of late. She felt as if she needed a steadying hand herself today, but it didn't look as though he'd be able to provide one. Elsie sighed, rehearsing her planned conversation starter one more time.

She ought to have known that conversations never happen the way one intends.

* * *

Elsie didn't even turn as she heard the soft knock and the opening of her door. "Have you made your last rounds then?" she asked, not looking up from her ledger.

Charles smiled at her back, thankful that they'd come to a point where she could recognize his footsteps, his knock, and that he didn't have to wait to be asked before entering her sitting room at this hour. _See, there's trust there … you can trust her with yourself. _"Yes, all locked up tight. Just about everyone has headed up to bed," Charles replied.

"Good. I just need another minute here and then I'll be finished, if you'd like to pour."

Charles smiled, knowing she had yet to turn around. _It's not often you surprise her, but this should be a pleasant one._ Charles placed the tray he was carrying on the side table and softly closed the door. They rarely closed it, but there was no way it would remain open tonight. He poured the liquid, replaced the decanter on the tray, and moved their chairs closer to the fire.

Elsie heard him moving the chairs, wondering if he'd read her thoughts. She was feeling a bit chilly and smiled when she heard him toss extra coal on the fire.

"You're working too hard, Mrs. Hughes, and letting your fire die down," he chided gently.

Elsie's heart warmed at the softness in his voice. _This is fine, lass … you'll do just fine talking to him tonight. This is the familiar man, the one who cares about you. _She thanked him, and gently enquired about his health one last time.

"As I said earlier, I feel completely fine," Charles answered. "But I thank you for always watching out for me," _She DOES_ _always watches out for you, doesn't she? Almost like … a wife. _For the first time that week, Charles felt utterly calm, as if held supported by something invisible – _held together at last_ – by her caring and concern. He knew he had nothing to fear anymore.

Finally, Elsie scratched in her last sums, closed her book and put it on the shelf. Turning, she noticed the glasses. She raised her eyebrows in surprise. "Is that whiskey?"

Charles chuckled. "Yes, I thought that after the week we've both had, it would be a welcome change."

Elsie let out a short, beautiful laugh. "That's the truth."

She took a tumbler from his hand, very careful to not touch his fingers, and raised her glass toward his in a silent toast. They simultaneously emptied their glasses in one sip. _It truly HAD_ _been a trying week! _

Elsie noticed that he'd placed their chairs closer to one another than usual and she tried not to stare at the man as he rose from his chair to refill their glasses. The atmosphere of calm was dissipating quickly in their silence; however, both were glad of the warming, calming drink, and sipped more slowly this time as they watched the fire.

"Mrs. Hughes, there's something I need to explain to you … " Charles finally uttered.

"Mr. Carson, I've something I've been meaning to ask … " Elsie started at the same time.

They both laughed. "You first," Elsie said. _It's not like you to put things off, Els … but the man seems so distracted. Better to have him in a good frame of mind before you go throwing your questions at him._

Charles stared into his drink for a moment, unsure of how to begin. He was about to pour out the contents of his heart to this woman, the one alongside of whom he had worked for all these years, the one without whom he could no longer imagine spending his future. The man felt a strong pull in his chest, and he knew that once he let it all out there would be no turning back, no regaining this precarious balance they'd been living for years. He'd be tipping the scales completely, which might just scatter the infinite joys of their friendship to the wind in the process. But then he looked up from the amber liquid and found himself swimming in the blue of her wide eyes, saw her right beside him as she always seemed to be, and he felt steady enough to begin. Looking into those eyes was like finally, _at long last_, coming home.

"I've purchased a property."

Elsie stared at him, trying to stifle the sadness creeping into her heart. _He bought a property. He knows you cannot be a part of this, and he went ahead and did it. Well … I guess he didn't actually need your contribution at all … But then, why ask? __Why would he ask if he could do it on his own?__ Oh … ohhhh … _Hope dawned ever so slowly, mixing with the familiar tune that had been playing in the back of Elsie's mind for days now. She looked into his eyes, waiting for him to continue, nodding a bit in encouragement. _Those big, warm, lovely eyes, into the depths of which I could get lost forever … steady, girl … this is HIS__ plan, HIS__retirement … but at least he's actually planning for it now, has done something real towards that … steady … have patience._

"Yes … well … you know how I like to stick to a plan. So I've gone ahead and done it," Charles said haltingly. "There is one thing you should know, though."

"Oh?" came her soft reply.

"Ahem … ," Charles stalled. He took a sip of his drink, draining the glass once again, and placing it on the floor beside him before turning back to look directly into her eyes. Trying to convey all of his feelings in that one look, he continued, "Yes … and … I've added your name to the deed."

Elsie was ever so glad for the chair underneath her at that moment, because she would have fallen over for sure if she'd been standing. _You will not accept this! He feels SORRY__ for you. _Suddenly everything Elsie had hoped for, any plan for the future she'd envisioned, was slipping away from her, washed away by some current of pity for her situation with Becky.

Charles recognized the look in her eyes before she even finished that thought, raising his hand, palm facing outward to her, as if trying to make some feeble attempt to stop her thoughts. "Now, please … you must let me explain. This isn't pity. Nor is it some misguided sense of responsibility after learning about Becky. I know that's what you must think, and you have to hear me out. Please?"

She nodded, unsuccessfully willing the tears filling her eyes to _**STOP**_.

He plodded ahead, feeling now that he'd finally started he'd never be able to stop the deluge until it all came out.

"I know you didn't mean anything dishonest by not telling me about Becky, and I cannot express to you how much the facts of your life have touched me. I have every confidence in your ability to see to your own life, to your own plans for the future. But upon contemplating my own future and this investment for it I realized that, whenever I thought about my retirement, one precious component was always present ... _you_. You were in my imaginings, by my side as you always have been. I don't know how else to say this, Mrs. Hughes." He paused, gently taking her trembling hand. "I could not imagine the rest of my life without you by my side, steadying me, Mrs. Hughes, as you have always done, because … the truth is, I am hopelessly in love with you."

Elsie gasped, her tears spilling over at last. She took in the blurred vision of this wonderful man before her and felt his huge, warm hand, the one she'd craved to hold again since the day in Brighton, holding her trembling one ever so softly. A small sob escaped as she saw the man (_YOUR_ _man, apparently_) burst forth from the shell of the butler at last, the enormous wall she'd envisioned for so long finally crumbling to the ground … and, in the dust it left behind, she imagined seeing all her fears being swept away with the pieces. She turned her hand over, squeezing his firmly. The look that passed between them was charged with emotion, and neither noticed the glass she still held in the other hand tipping over, spilling the remnants of her drink onto her lap.

"I thought you'd never – " Elsie was startled by a knock at her door, unable to finish her statement. _You've got to be kidding me! Who in hell can be up at this hour, at this moment? Of all the times! _She looked at Charles and saw the agony in his own eyes at the knock. Knowing she couldn't simply ignore it, Elsie ripped her hand away from Charles. She was annoyed to see that she'd spilled the remainder of her drink, but she'd get to that after. Standing quickly, Elsie placed the glass on the table, wiped her tears, and called "Come in." She was shocked to hear that her voice betrayed none of the current of emotions flowing through her at that moment.

Charles quickly stood as Tom Branson entered the room. _What in the world is HE__ doing here?_

Tom quickly scanned the scene before him, his mind taking in the housekeeper's tear-stained face, the faint scent of whiskey, and the chairs by the fire. With the horrible awareness that he'd intruded on an intimate moment, he hastily explained.

"I'm so sorry to barge in, but there's been a telegram for you Mrs. Hughes. I happened to be down getting some milk for Sybbie and heard the pounding on the door." He handed her a small envelope.

"For me?" Elsie managed to say. "Who would be writing to me?"

She took her letter opener, and ripped the seal. Extracting the message with curiosity and not a little trepidation, Elsie read its contents.

The next few seconds seemed to pass in slow motion. Elsie read the message twice before digesting its brief contents. She felt the room start swimming around her, wondering if it could be some bizarre, cruel joke. _But it's not. No one would do such a thing … no one KNEW__._ She felt as if her heart fell into the pit of her stomach.

Charles watched as Elsie ripped open and read the message. He watched her begin to sway, all the color draining from her face. Rushing over to her, he managed to catch her in his arms just before she hit the floor.

Tom watched in horror and fascination as the butler scooped up the housekeeper and softly placed her on the settee. He was astounded at the gentleness in this big, often blustering man and was touched to find that he was not the only one in the household with a soft spot for their dear Mrs. Hughes. He retrieved the telegram, scanned it quickly, and wordlessly handed it to Charles.

"She has to go," was all Tom said. He noticed the heartbroken look in the butler's eyes as he read the message, and added, "Please, allow me to take care of everything. She means a great deal to me, you know."

Charles could only nod and whisper his thanks. If he knew anything at that moment, it was that there he couldn't leave the side of this woman who lay before him on the sofa. He sat in a chair beside her, held her hand, and softly called her name in an attempt to bring her around.

It was only then that he remembered she'd been meaning to ask him something. Clearly that would have to wait now …


	6. Chapter Six: Angel

**A/N: This was a tough one, and there are lots of feels. Thanks to silhouettedswallow for slashing my obsession with commas and her patience with my endless questions and drafts. Thanks for all the reblogs and reviews! I love how the story is spreading and, while it's not going to be pretty, I'm glad some of you will have your questions answered regarding the last chapter's end. ****At the suggestion of the wonderful deeedeee, I eliminated the bold-faced print from the memory. Memory sections are between the lined areas within the story.**

**(Spotify has the playlist for the story: Username is ChelsieSouloftheAbbey and playlist is for "Music of the Heart.")**

* * *

_You are pulled from the wreckage_

_Of your silent reverie,_

_You're in the arms of the Angel,_

_May you find some comfort here._

**~"Angel," by Sarah McLachlan**

* * *

"_God answers sharp and sudden on some prayers, and thrusts the thing we have prayed for in our face, a gauntlet with a gift in it." –Elizabeth Barrett Browning_

* * *

Elsie stared out into the gloom, watching the familiar countryside fly by through the rain-streaked window, lost in thought. The past twenty-four hours had brought a whirlwind of thoughts and feelings her way; some were gloriously wonderful, while others were almost unbearable. She'd been overwhelmed by it all, by showing a strong face to everyone around her. But now, soothed by the sounds of the train and the rushing storm, Elsie was able to breathe a bit more normally. Typically, she could compartmentalize her feelings without any problem, so that they did not get in the way of the job that needed doing, the duties to be overseen. She had given up on that hours ago. _That won't work this time. You always feared this day would come, Els … the day you'd have to deal with this possibility. _But never did she expect it so _soon_.

Sensing a presence beside her, Elsie realized her meal had arrived. With a nod and as much of a smile as she could manage, she thanked the woman who had delivered it, and attempted a few bites. _Thank god for the tea_. Unsure of whether or not she'd finally be able to eat something, Elsie treaded softly, realizing that the only things she'd consumed since yesterday morning were two cups of tea, some toast, and some whiskey. But today the tea and sandwiches seemed to settle fairly well, despite her inability to finish everything. Pushing the remainder aside, Elsie resumed her contemplation of the countryside. The wind whipping the rain around mimicked the maelstrom that had been going on inside of her. Realizing she had at least another hour to go before reaching her first destination, she closed her eyes and tried to get some rest, but all she could do was think back on the sequence of events that brought her to the seat she currently occupied …

* * *

Elsie's eyes opened slowly, and she realized that she was reclining on the settee in her sitting room, one hand clutched in both of Charles's.

"Welcome back," he said softly, smiling down at her. "Are you hurt?"

Trying to pull the details of what happened out of her mind, Elsie recalled the strong, warm arms that had enveloped her as she fell to the floor. "Not physically … thanks to you, I think."

Elsie sat up slowly, rubbing her eyes. Charles released her hand and passed her a cup of tea. She thanked him, but couldn't manage more than a few sips before putting it aside.

"Mr. Branson has left, but promises to be back shortly," he said. Despite her lingering haziness, Elsie heard the double-meaning in his words: _He'll be back soon, to see you. He'll be back soon, so we cannot continue our conversation._

Oh … yes. Elsie glanced at the floor, trying to believe the turn of events that had taken place in this room just prior to her fainting. _Fainting into the arms of the man you love, lass? Truly .._. She had been nervous about sitting with Charles tonight, finally talking after so many days, so many _years_, and then … _oh, my God, he LOVES you! But now … who knows what the future will hold NOW? You have so many things to address, Els. He needs to know all of it. Just not quite yet. _

"You've read the telegram, I presume? You know that … " Elsie tried to say, but couldn't continue, tears starting to fall down her face. Elsie realized she had shed more tears tonight than she had in the last several years put together, but she really didn't care anymore.

"Yes, I'm so very sorry about Becky. It didn't say much, of course. You will want to telephone them?" Charles inquired gently, as if he were painfully aware of how difficult this would be for her, the one who was used to being so strong for everyone else but who rarely spared the time to care for herself.

"In the morning, yes. I'll need to make arrangements … I'll need to be away." Elsie wasn't sure how she was going to get through all of this, but Charles reached over and squeezed her hand, steadying her. He handed her a handkerchief, which she accepted with a nod of thanks. They sat in silence for a few minutes while she collected her thoughts. _Always caring for you, lass … of course … when you let him. _

The knock at the door startled them both and they stood, but this time neither bothered removing their hand from the other. "Come in, please," said Elsie.

Tom Branson entered the room, closing the door behind him. "Mrs. Hughes, I cannot begin to tell you how sorry I am," he began.

"Thank you, Mr. Branson," she replied. "I appreciate that." Elsie paused, unsure of what to say to this man to whom she'd offered so much comfort when they'd lost his precious wife.

Tom looked at her and said, "I have taken the liberty of arranging some things for you, Mrs. Hughes. I've spoken with Anna … I hope you don't mind." Elsie shook her head. "She is prepared to assume your duties in addition to her own whenever you need to leave, for as long as you need. Just let her know when you've established your schedule and leave everything else to us," he said, glancing at Charles, who nodded in agreement.

At first, Elsie was taken aback by his words, but then she understood. She and Tom Branson were alike in many ways. They weren't afraid to express unpopular ideas. Both had learned how to manage their dedication to different causes more carefully as the years went on, but they were each individuals of action. Elsie recognized the hopeful, almost pleading, look in his eyes as he watched for her reaction. _He needs to DO something, Elsie … ANYTHING to take the focus away from death and put it back into the living. Of course he does, and you will allow it with no complaint._

"Thank you, Mr. Branson. I'm deeply grateful to you all … for taking care of me," she added, looking at Charles.

"We are happy to help in any way that we can, Mrs. Hughes. Sort of … returning the favor, as it were," Tom said. They shared a brief smile, neither wanting to verbalize exactly how much help Elsie had given Tom over the years, not with Charles right there, listening. Tom reached for her arm, squeezed it briefly, and left.

"Well, I think it's time for you to head up," Charles said to Elsie.

She turned to look at him, feeling a rush of emotions pass from his eyes to hers and back again. Elsie knew this was not the time to continue their conversation from earlier – _not even a full hour ago _– and nodded her agreement. But she couldn't seem to move from the spot, as if doing so would break the bond between. It was such a new experience for them both, with her openly hurting and him standing beside her trying to be the strong one, the one who would care for her and … _just maybe _… heal her. It was the complete opposite of how their relationship had always been, and she decided to allow this, to allow him to help in putting her broken pieces back together as well as they would fit.

Charles removed his hand from hers then and placed it gently at the small of her back. He silently escorted her out of the room, closing the door behind them. He walked her up the stairs, and just before they parted he placed a gentle kiss on the top of her head.

"You know where to find me if you need me," he said.

"Yes," she replied, looking into his eyes.

_I'm here for you, _they said.

_I appreciate it, _hers replied.

The next morning, Elsie had woken slowly. She remarked that the sun had already risen and her heart dropped at the realization that she'd overslept. Then the events of the prior evening came rushing back to her, and she rolled onto her side, curling herself into a ball as she'd done when she was just a girl, allowing herself a few extra minutes. _To hell with breakfast. _The dream she'd been having returned to her then, a dream full of darkness, loud voices, threats and more. It contained no beach, no warm hand, and no potential of a promise to be fulfilled. No … this was a nightmare from her past, the one that Elsie had a chance to truly bury once and for all … if she had the strength to do it.

The effort it took to push her past down inside of her all these years had made Elsie unbelievably tired. She'd arrived at Downton with little she wished to tell of her past, but that wasn't terribly unusual for a girl in service and so it went relatively unnoticed. Over time, Elsie became the unofficial confidante of those at the Abbey, and she was pleased by that. It fulfilled her need to help people, particularly those who were less fortunate, and it allowed her to put the focus on them instead of herself. The more she looked after others, the less they felt the need to do the same for her. That allowed Elsie to build up her own little wall of sorts, isolating the girl inside from the Mrs. Hughes that she had fought to become. It was why she understood so clearly the butler that was Charles Carson, and the likelihood that a very different man lived somewhere deep inside. Yes, Elsie Hughes knew all about constructing protective walls.

Elsie thought she had been so careful in the little dance she and Charles had done over the years. He'd get closer, make his way into her heart just a little, often without realizing it, and she'd find some way to turn the care and comfort toward him instead, deflecting it before he realized her true feelings. His heart … the flu … Alice … _oh, God – Haxby. _Then, when Elsie had feared for her own health, she turned to another for comfort, allowing Mrs. Patmore to help her instead. She closed herself off from the one person whom she feared would see right into the center of her pain, the one she now knew would have dedicated his life to caring for her had she truly been dying. Yet through it all, he'd still been right there supporting her … hiding in the shadows, a step behind perhaps, but present nonetheless. She had not realized until last night how deep his feelings had been, but the thought brought her little comfort now. Until he had all the details, it meant almost nothing. _You'll tell him when you return … whenever that is. You owe him that much. It cannot remain hidden, not now. __It will all come out, because you'll never be able to keep it from him after this … you won't be the same woman, and he'll see that as soon as you step off that train that will bring you back into his life._

Elsie rose from the bed, cognizant of the fact that no maid had woken her but fully aware that she still would have responsibilities to carry out. It wouldn't be like when her mam had passed, when she'd only been head housemaid and the housekeeper had simply taken over her duties. Elsie would have to rearrange her schedule in addition to making travel plans and funeral arrangements, and all of that needed to be done as soon as possible.

When she was halfway to her wardrobe, Elsie noticed two envelopes on the floor, evidently slid under her door during the night. Curious, she picked them up off the floor, scowling as her bones creaked in the process. _Getting on, indeed._ Elsie took the envelopes to her small desk and looked at the smaller of the two. She recognized the handwriting immediately, opened it, and read:

_Mrs. Hughes, _

_Words cannot express my sadness for what you are going through. Please do not feel the need to attend breakfast, for Mr. Carson will be informing the staff about what has happened. I will send a tray up with Daisy. The schedule we discussed previously is taken care of, and you can be assured that as of this moment you have no duties to oversee. Please try to rest and to eat something … you'll need your strength. _

_Affectionately,_

_Anna_

Elsie was overcome at the words before her. Anna had single-handedly taken over all of Elsie's responsibilities, allowing the housekeeper time to herself and an opportunity to take care of what she needed and, equally important to Elsie, time to gather her thoughts before seeing the other staff. She was eternally grateful that she would not have to be the one who would explain her upcoming absence and the reason behind it. She knew that either Anna, Mr. Branson or even Charles would inform Lady Mary and the rest of the family. And there would be no question about her being allowed the time she needed, not if Mr. Branson had any say in the matter.

Then came a knock on the door, and Elsie's quiet, "Come in." She placed the letters on her desk and stood, facing the doorway.

Daisy entered with a breakfast tray, looking as though she'd rather be anywhere but in front of Elsie at that moment.

"Daisy, thank you," Elsie said kindly. "I appreciate you taking the time to put this together so beautifully for me," she continued, noticing the vase with her favorite flowers and the variety of her favorite foods on the tray. _That girl is more attentive than most realize._

"You're welcome," Daisy said, clearly fighting back tears. "Mrs. Hughes … I'm … oh, my …"

_The poor girl. She, too, knows the acute pain you're feeling, Els. So much tragedy in this house … so much loss. _

Elsie approached Daisy, taking the tray from her hands and setting it aside. She wrapped her arms around the girl, patting her back and comforting her as they both wept.

After a minute, Daisy pulled back. "I'm so sorry, Mrs. Hughes … the last thing you need is me falling apart all over you."

"Nonsense," replied Elsie. "I shall be just fine – better fortified, in fact, by this lovely breakfast. Thank you again," she continued, knowing already that she wouldn't be able to eat much of it.

Daisy nodded and let herself out. Elsie remembered the second envelope, the one bearing her name in unfamiliar handwriting. She took it to the desk, poured a cup of tea, and opened it. She was startled as she began to read:

_Dear Mrs. Hughes,_

_ Mr. Branson and Anna have informed me of the horrible news you received earlier this evening, and I write expressing my deepest condolences on the death of your sister, Becky. I do hope that you will not begrudge either of them having shared this information, as I know they did so as a means of alleviating some of the burdens you are undoubtedly now facing._

_ I have few words of comfort that I can offer you, except to say that of course I know the pain of losing one's younger sister, and I imagine that I can understand some of what you may be feeling at this time._

_ Please allow me to arrange and pay for your travel expenses to Lytham St. Anne's, and further to your home in Argyll. I've gleaned a few details of what you may require from Mr. Carson, and when you have finalized the details of your travel needs you have only to communicate them to any of us and they will be taken care of. _

_ I realize that we have never enjoyed what could be referred to as a close relationship, Mrs. Hughes, but I assure you I mean only to make your next few days a bit easier. You are highly regarded by this entire family, and we mean to care for you as much as we are able in your time of need, as you've so often taken care of us throughout your time at Downton._

_Very sincerely,_

_Lady Mary Crawley_

Elsie was stunned. There was really no other word for it. _Well, I never. Lady Mary Crawley. _The one Elsie was never fond of, and she strongly suspected the feeling was mutual. The one who, slowly but surely, seemed to be changing before everyone's eyes, coming into herself in a way that no one predicted. _Not quite true, lass … Charles always gave testament to a softer side of her. Mr. Crawley saw it, too, evidently._

_But __this … this is too much._ And the wonder of it all was that she wouldn't dream of refusing – the rudeness of turning down a gift that had been offered with such care and thoughtfulness was not part of Elsie's character. Yes, the younger Ladies _would_ very well understand Elsie's pain, having also lost a sister in tragic and unexpected circumstances. They may not have known about Becky's existence, but that did not change the profound sadness of this shared experience.

Elsie rose and got dressed. She fixed her hair, and attempted to eat some of her breakfast. She congratulated herself on managing two slices of toast and an entire cup of tea, but thus fortified she had to get out of her room before she went stir crazy. Setting a few items on her bed to pack later on that day, she headed downstairs to seek out Charles … and his telephone.

Thankfully, Elsie had passed no one in the hall. Due to the hour, she knew Charles would be in his pantry. She knocked softly and entered as he looked up.

"Good morning, Mr. Carson."

"Good morning, Mrs. Hughes. Did you have a restful night?"

"Not particularly, but I did sleep some which is more than I'd hoped for," she answered honestly. "Might I use your telephone, please?"

Charles noticed the controlled clip in her voice, the brogue that had been thicker last evening reined in once more, and the business-only look to her face. Knowing she was holding herself together with the familiar comfort of having a task to accomplish, he nodded and left the room. "Take as long as you need," he said on the way out. He closed the door behind him.

Elsie went directly to his desk, taking his seat. She reveled in the comfort it provided, in the smell of the leather and … _him_. The feeling of the chair around her calmed her nerves and gave her the strength to pick up the receiver and ask for the necessary extension. She waited for the connection to be made, phrasing her words in her head before the line was picked up. Once she had someone at the other end, Elsie was business as usual. She identified herself, thanked the woman at the end of the line for her heartfelt condolences, and made arrangements to stop by the home – _Becky's home – _to collect her baby sister's things before making the trip to Argyll for the burial. She appreciated the request of the staff to hold a small memorial service once Elsie had arrived. She knew they all loved her Becky almost as much as she did, and Elsie was touched. Managing somehow to wrap up the conversation, she hung up the receiver, looked over her notes … and burst into silent tears. _Again._

With no idea really of how long she'd been sitting there, Elsie heard Anna's voice outside the door. She heard the knock and quickly wiped her tears as Anna knocked and entered the room.

"Mrs. Hughes," was all Anna had time to get out before rushing to the woman in the chair and wrapping her in a fierce hug.

Elsie was overwhelmed with the memories flooding her veins. Memories of the sister she'd lost, the sole bright and shining light from her past, mixing with thoughts of all the days she'd spent comforting this strong, small woman who was now holding her. _Anna, Charles, Tom Branson, even Lady Mary … _She was unable to speak, so moved was she by the caring, the _love_, that she was receiving from all around her. Wordlessly, she and Anna separated and Elsie handed the young woman the notes she'd made that contained all the details of her travel arrangements. _A voyage into the past. _Anna glanced at the paper and put it in her pocket.

Elsie watched Anna, acutely aware of how the woman had blossomed over the past years into someone confident and capable while never losing her quiet, loving manner. Slowly Elsie rose from Charles's chair, moved her hand to her waist, and unclipped the precious chatelaine from her belt. Handing it to Anna, Elsie looked her in the eyes, and whispered with a wink, "Don't let Mrs. Patmore have that storeroom cupboard key, whatever you do." Anna giggled, taking the keys from Elsie's hand and clipping them to her own dress.

"You have nothing here to worry about, Mrs. Hughes, nothing whatsoever."

Later that day, packed and ready, Elsie waited outside the door for the car that would drive her to the station. She'd been prepared to walk there, leaving in the morning, but Lady Mary had insisted she be driven. Elsie packed her things while the others were at lunch, and no sooner had she finished – _more than ready to get on with it, now, with no actual work to attend to anymore_ – than she was notified by Charles that the chauffeur would be driving her to the station. He informed her that tickets would be waiting for her at the window upon her arrival, and that accommodations in both Lytham St. Anne's and Argyll had been booked for her trip. Should she need anything else, she had only to ask.

Elsie had nodded in acknowledgement of his words, her mind reeling, and once again she was rendered speechless. _That's getting old, _she thought, a chuckle erupting from her. Charles raised an eyebrow in amusement, but said nothing. He seemed to know she was not yet able to resume their familiar manner of the previous night. _Of course he does … he knows you. _

The car arrived at last, and Elsie was grateful to be alone. But just as she bent to pick up her bag, she heard familiar, strong footsteps coming through the door. Wordlessly picking up the suitcase from the ground beside her, Charles walked Elsie to the car. He handed her bag to the chauffeur, and opened the door for her.

Marveling at the man, Elsie laughed softly. "I'm no _Lady_, Mr. Carson. You don't need to wait on me."

He paused for a moment, allowing himself to stare directly into her eyes. "I beg to differ, Mrs. Hughes," he whispered. "Travel safely."

* * *

Elsie was startled by the sound of the train as it began to slow, finally approaching the station. She stretched in the comfortable seat, shaking her head in wonder once again at Lady Mary. _Traveling in first class, indeed. _And Elsie knew that words of instruction must have been passed through the staff on the train, for no questioning eyebrows were thrown her way upon seeing a woman of her clearly meager means holding a first-class ticket. No, Elsie was allowed her peace and quiet, her time to be in her own thoughts.

Slowly, over the past day, it had dawned on Elsie that she was being cared for. Not just cared _about_, but truly cared _FOR_ ... as if by … a family. _My family. 'They're all the family I've got,' he'd said, and you rolled your eyes at him. But they DO care – upstairs and down – for YOU. This entire experience proves that._ Elsie thought back to the kind looks, touches on her arm, and mercifully few words that she had received from the staff and the family. She felt the warmth of their invisible embrace as the train finally came to a stop, and she rose from her seat and reached for her handbag. That warmth would buoy her, giving her strength in the days to come. She felt safe. _Loved._ It was a remarkable feeling.

It was going to be a long couple of days.


	7. Chapter Seven: Stay

**A/N: ****Thanks again to my AWESOME beta, silhouettedswallow, for her excellent instruction and for keeping me grounded, focused, and educated about British customs. Despite us being firmly in AU territory now, I do want to keep the storylines as realistic as possible. **

**I found the literary passage quoted in this chapter ironic, given the book it's from and the nature of Charles's conversation … read on …**

**Thank you SO much to everyone for reviews, they really make my day and encourage me to move forward. **

**The story has a Spotify playlist, as all chapters are inspired by songs. Go to Spotify , find user ChelsieSouloftheAbbey and playlist "Music of the Heart."**

* * *

_Funny you're the broken one_

_but I'm the only one who needed saving,_

'_Cause when you never see the light _

_it's hard to know which one of us is caving ..._

_Makes me feel like I can't live without you,_

_I want you to stay..._

**_~"Stay," by Rihanna feat. Mikky Ekko_**

* * *

_Regret to inform you … sister … died … awaiting instruction … _The words played through Charles's head like a curse, stabbing his heart each time he saw them in the back of his mind. The voice in which Elsie had spoken after waking from her spell – the quiet, defeated tone that he could hear in her words, uttered in a brogue that was much thicker than usual – told him that she was not herself, not really. Or, he reflected, she was less like the Mrs. Hughes he'd known for years, and perhaps more like the young Elsie that had arrived from a small farm in Argyll. She'd said once that she wasn't that farm girl anymore, but had she regretted that decision … perhaps regretted not marrying Joe Burns, not taking a different path? _What an unbearable thought. _

By the next morning, Elsie did seem to have regained some semblance of control, albeit fragile, and he would do nothing to break it regardless of his own feelings. Having informed the staff of what had happened, and that she'd be away from the house for a time with Anna assuming her duties, Charles headed to his pantry. He couldn't stand to see Elsie in pain, but knew he could say nothing to soothe it, either. She wouldn't be alone in this, not really; he and Anna had done all they could to alleviate her work-related duties, and he knew the family would help to arrange her travel necessities, but there was a limit to what she'd accept and Charles knew it. He had never seen her like this; not when she feared for her health a few years back, not even when her mother had died. The thought frightened Charles to his core. _She's always cared for you, old man, but there's nothing else you can do for her. She's the broken one now, and you must patiently let her work through it._

Charles ached to hold her in his arms, to help her through this ordeal, but it was impossible. To make matters worse, he had a haunting fear that once Elsie returned to Argyll, reminded of her life as a girl, she'd leave Downton altogether and move. He knew she would still need to work, to earn and save for her own future. But perhaps her voyage would make her nostalgic, homesick for the country she'd left all those years ago. Charles knew she had, in many ways, been living this life in service to support Becky. For all he knew, Elsie might want to pursue a different life, one that afforded a change of scenery, a simpler way of living. She might find herself unable to continue along the path that she had created in order to care for her sister; it might be too harsh a reminder. Charles was well aware that neither of them was young and their work was not easy. Perhaps she would want to work in a shop, to return to life on a farm with a distant cousin or an old friend. He wasn't sure what he'd do if he ever had to live without her. _Please return, please stay with me,_ he kept thinking. _I just need a chance._

But he had not uttered any of this aloud as she was readying to leave despite ample opportunity. He had seen her several times that day, but only to talk of work and travel arrangements, nothing personal in nature whatsoever, and the evening of her departure had felt surreal in so many ways. They had always been apart for the Season, of course, but he'd had her letters to sustain him, and there had never been a doubt that he'd return. Her visits to Becky must have been done during those months as well, for Charles had no recollection of Elsie ever having left Downton except for the time her mother died all those years ago. Charles wondered how he'd have felt if their roles had been reversed, and was selfishly thankful that it had been _he _who had always left, and _she _who remained. He knew now that he'd never have survived those months if he'd been the one left behind in a relatively empty house.

But he couldn't tell her any of that now, and so he expressed none of his fears aloud. Now that he had told Elsie of his love for her, there was no turning back, no pretending those feelings weren't the reason behind everything he would do for her, and say to her, from this point forward. But he was not sure if those feelings were reciprocated because she'd been unable to say before that horrid telegram had arrived. Still, she had seemed amazed at his proclamation of love, and there had been something in her eyes as he'd spoken … _hope … love? ..._ but it was gone in a flash with Mr. Branson's knock on the door.

Charles heard the car pulling around to drive Elsie to the station. He rushed downstairs and outside, picking up her bag as she was reaching for it. Resisting the urge to touch her or say anything at all, he simply looked at her and tried to fill that look with all the love and support he had to give. With a smile and a whisper, she was in the car and pulling away from him. His heart felt as if it were splitting in two.

* * *

The following afternoon found Charles overseeing afternoon tea. The Dowager and Mrs. Crawley had surprised everyone by appearing at the house unannounced, as Mrs. Crawley wanted to spend some time with Master George while Lord and Lady Grantham were away. Charles was secretly touched by her love for the boy, and he was grateful to both her and the Dowager for helping to bring Lady Mary back to the land of the living. He knew that the Dowager had at some point formed a type of unspoken allegiance with Mrs. Crawley, something most would never have seen coming but that didn't surprise him much. He saw the similarities they shared even if others couldn't, not the least of which was a fondness for his favorite Crawley daughter.

Charles was managing fairly well, he thought, the butler façade having been temporarily reconstructed over the man. Grateful for the small party seated before him, he was able to talk himself into maintaining his stoic image. The irony of the situation was not lost on him; he knew Lady Mary and the Dowager could see right through the façade anyway. _And, actually, Mrs. Crawley probably does, too_. But presentation was everything and clinging to the traditions of his occupation was the only way he was going to make it through Elsie's absence. He felt as though the pieces of his façade were held together by the finest of filaments and knew it would not take much to make it come tumbling down again. Hopefully the reconstructed mask would survive the upcoming days … at least enough to allow him to manage the entire below-stairs staff. It was the least he could do for Elsie. Charles desperately needed some time alone, but the duties of the day had not provided it. _Perhaps after they leave you can escape for a few moments._ But suddenly, as the ladies finished tea and were preparing to look in on the children, Mr. Barrow appeared quietly at Charles's side.

"Mr. Carson, I believe I can manage things from here," he said, an uncharacteristic kindness in his voice that almost made Charles crumble on the spot.

Charles managed a weak "Thank you, Mr. Barrow. That would be much appreciated." He exited the dining room and headed down toward the servants' hall in a daze.

Upon reaching the bottom of the staircase, however, he had a dire need to escape the house altogether. Everywhere he looked he saw reminders of who was missing. Ignoring his coat, Charles headed directly outside, walking slowly, until he came to a familiar spot. Sitting in one of the chairs, he gazed out into the late afternoon stillness. The impropriety of him sitting in the Abbey's gardens – not a member of the family, but a servant, enjoying the smells and sounds of the secluded spot – registered in the butler's mind, but the man decided he simply didn't care.

Some time later Charles noticed the sound of a departing car in the distance, and determined the two older women must be headed home. Then, a few minutes later, he heard slow, strong footsteps approaching him from behind, and found he was not that surprised. He half-expected them, actually, in his heart if not in his mind. He'd noticed her watching him carefully throughout tea, after all. He waited patiently until they almost reached him, then began to rise and turn toward his visitor, as custom dictated he should.

"Please, Carson, stay where you are and allow me to sit. I can manage just fine, but I refuse to get a crick in my neck from looking up at you the entire time I'm here," came the familiar voice.

Instead of obeying, Charles reached for the Dowager's hand, guiding her to a seat before reclaiming his own. They sat in silence for a few moments, each collecting their thoughts.

"Milady, I believed you had left with Mrs. Crawley," Charles began.

"No, I thought it best to stay. My driver will return for me." She hesitated, not quite sure if the man she saw before her would welcome her presence as he would have …before. "I thought you might need, well, someone …" the Dowager replied hesitantly.

Charles smiled at her sadly, hearing the words she meant but was unable to utter. _Yes, I could use an old friend …_ He saw the question in her eyes and nodded, replying, "As usual, you are correct. Thank you."

The Dowager kept her silence for a moment and then continued more firmly, "She knows how you feel by now, surely? Knows about the purchase of the cottage?"

He was shocked at first, then wondered why. _Of course she knew. She knows everything. She probably saw your feelings before you did. _"Yes, I did manage finally to mention all of that to her," Charles replied sadly, "but only just before her world came crumbling down."

"Well, it's high time you did! Bran- _Tom _informed me of the contents of the message. I am sure it was quite a shock. I gather no one knew she even had a sister?"

"I did, although I'd only discovered it recently." Charles continued, "So now, after confessing my feelings to her, I find myself once again in an unusual situation." He gazed out into the garden and beyond, getting lost in his thoughts once more.

The Dowager laughed out loud. Her shrill, familiar laugh always warmed his heart with memories of how he understood her better than most, and how she could always see right through to the heart of him. "Oh, I am sure you do … you are lost with no idea what to do next, no plan of attack … no way to _fix _this for her." She paused, contemplating the man before her. "Patience, Charlie," she said softly.

The old name startled him back to reality. Looking back at her, he slowly nodded his agreement.

"What is it that you are afraid of?" she asked.

Charles stared at her for a moment, marveling once again at the similarities between the three women in his life that he valued above all others. _The Dowager, Lady Mary, and Elsie Hughes … so often at odds, because they are so alike_._ Never afraid to challenge him, to speak directly when needed._

"She doesn't know about my past," he said simply. "I'm actually not sure what details she has guessed at, of course, but there's no way she could have divined the entire truth."

"You cannot possibly believe she'll think _less _of you for it?" she asked incredulously. "That woman is in love with you, Charles, and has been for much longer than you know, of that I am quite sure. Within that kind of love lies power, and that power carries a unique form of protection."

Charles smirked. "With all due respect, Milady, I am not sure I agree with your assessment. How could she _not _think less of me? She came from a farm in Scotland, most likely from a loving family." He paused. "But of course I've told her nothing. We had an agreement, you and I …" he said. His face took on a hopeless expression, and he realized he was fighting tears. It would not be the first time he had cried in front of this formidable woman, but he could not allow himself to break quite yet.

"You have my permission to tell her everything," she said, cutting him off. "After all, I will be entrusting you to _her_ care one day," she said with a sad smile. "I trust her implicitly."

Seeing the warmth in her gaze, he nodded. "Thank you, Milady … for everything."

They spent a few moments in silence, hearing only the early evening buzz as it rose from the garden, and the Dowager started to rise from her chair. "Yes, well, that is enough emotional discussion for one day. Help this old woman back to the house," she said. "It's high time I returned home. It should be a quiet evening here, I imagine … do try to get some rest."

He rose, offering his arm to her, which he noted she took gratefully. _It's true … we are all getting on …_

"Thank you, Carson," she said to him, their familiar roles falling into place once again.

"You can always lean on me, Milady," he replied.

"I know that. I've always counted on you being here," she answered softly, the words almost catching in her throat. She hoped he hadn't noticed, but realized the wish was futile; the ever-attentive Charles Carson didn't miss much … at least, not where she was concerned.

* * *

Having seen the Dowager off, Charles entered the house once more. Mr. Barrow informed him that he'd be more than happy oversee dinner for Lady Mary and Mr. Branson. Charles was grateful for the man's uncharacteristic kindness, realizing something must have happened recently to change him. _Yes, and he also has a mutually caring relationship with a certain Scottish housekeeper_.

Charles knew he'd never be able to eat much that evening. It was highly unusual for him to miss dinner, to not assume his seat at the head of the table, but he found he could not face anyone just now. After turning the servants' dinner over to Mr. Barrow as well, Charles headed down the hall. He approached the sitting room door, noticing that it was slightly ajar. _What are you doing, man? You really should not be here. _Just then, Anna stepped out and bumped directly into him.

"Oh, Mr. Carson!" she exclaimed. "I'm ever so sorry."

"It is I who should be sorry, Anna," came his feeble reply. "I hope I haven't hurt you."

Anna shook her head silently. She looked into his eyes, and said in her quiet voice, "I'm all done in here for the rest of the day, Mr. Carson. Please take as long as you need, and just lock up behind you tonight." She removed the sitting room key from the chatelaine that dangled from her dress, handing it to him. "It's only a few days, and I'll be taking the ledgers home so as not to stay here too late. I'll get the key back from you at breakfast."

"Thank you, Anna," he managed to whisper. He took the key from her hand (_so small, that hand, just like Elsie's … small yet STRONG__, this one … no wonder Anna is her favorite … they are so alike)_ and watched the young woman head down the hall, where her husband was waiting for her with a look of love in his eyes. Mr. Bates then glanced at Charles and they shared a brief look of understanding before Charles turned away, tucking the key into his waistcoat pocket.

He entered the housekeeper's sitting room, closing the door behind him. Sinking down into his usual chair, the filament snapped at last, and he wept. He cried silent tears for Elsie's pain, for what she would have to endure these next few days as she buried her beloved sister, her last link to her natural family. He cried for himself, for the hole in his heart that would reside as long as she was gone. He was now more committed than ever to the vision of the future he'd planned, but the uncertainty of it overwhelmed him more than before.

After a few minutes, Charles wiped his tears and stood from the chair. Moving around the room, he took in all that it contained, focusing on the contents as a way to order his mind. He counted everything, a technique he often used to calm himself when he was agitated. He counted her chairs, the pieces of china on the shelves, the pictures on the wall, the books. _What's this? She's moved them __again __.._. Charles approached the bookshelves, examining them. He knew she rearranged each shelf when a new addition upset the order of the books. Sometimes she'd organize them alphabetically by title instead of author. One time (he still shook his head in amusement), she actually arranged them by size. Charles suspected she'd done _that _in order to irk him.

_Wait … what's this? _Charles examined the spine of one book more closely. _Dickens … truly? _It was one he'd never noticed on her shelves before, and he wondered if she'd been keeping it in her room. The novel was one of his favorites, one he'd mentioned to her several times over the years … and one in which she had never seemed interested. He knew that she preferred poetry and works of more modern literature, the kind that shocked the senses instead of just the mind. _Men sewn together from bits, indeed._ Yet he'd occasionally read the books she mentioned, if for no other reason than to have something to discuss with her. _Why did she never tell me she owned this? For how long has it been here?_

Removing it slowly from the shelf, Charles noted that it was worn, as though it had been well-loved. He knew that the only second-hand books she ever had were discarded ones from His Lordship's library, and that this was certainly not one of those. The book in his hand had only ever belonged to Elsie Hughes. She was ever so frugal, but relished being the first to ever crack open the pages of a new book. Hers was a small collection, but one of which she was infinitely proud. Opening the cover, he smirked as his fingers brushed over the dog-eared pages, knowing how she curled the corners with her delicate fingers as she read, as if she could not wait to turn the pages to see what was to come. All of Charles's books looked brand new, despite having been read dozens of times. _Only one of many ways you are different, one of the ways that has never really mattered._

Charles took the book back to his chair and sat. Despite being in her room uninvited and going through her things, he couldn't bear sitting at her desk, _in her chair_. He felt as though that would be the ultimate intrusion. He opened the novel gently, seeing her name written on the inside cover. _E. Hughes_. He sighed, tracing her firmly-written script with his finger, as though by touching her name he could feel closer to her.

Turning the pages, he began to read the familiar words. He acknowledged with a smile that she had none of the passages marked, had noted no words to which she wanted to return. When Charles borrowed one of her books, it always annoyed him that she had notes throughout the pages, marking passages that held special meaning for her. He chastised her on more than one occasion for it (_"One should not deface a book in such a manner, Mrs. Hughes."_) but of course she paid him no heed. He continued reading, getting lost in the pages as their sentences soothed his wounded heart, a distraction at last.

As the hours progressed, Charles continued to read, finally starting to feel sleepy. _One more chapter after this one, then you'll turn in_. But then his eyes fell onto the next page, and he was shocked into wakefulness. He noticed the bracket that was drawn around the text in front of him, with one word scrawled faintly in the margin: _London_. He knew the passage, of course, and somehow his mind knew instantly that she'd purchased and read this book when he'd been away for the Season. Realization finally dawned. He quickly flipped through the remaining pages … _No, she's only marked this selection, THESE words … _

Suddenly, the story no longer mattered, only the passage she'd so carefully bracketed so that she could return to it again and again, to reflect upon it, as she'd told him so many times she did with words that moved her …

_**You are part of my existence, part of myself. You have been in every line I have ever read, since I first came here …**_

In disbelief, Charles kept reading:

_**… y****_o_u have been in every prospect I have ever seen since – on the river, on the sails of the ships, on the marshes, in the clouds, in the light, in the darkness, in the wind, in the woods, in the sea, in the streets. You have been the embodiment of every graceful fancy that my mind has ever become acquainted with. The stones of which the strongest London buildings are made, are not more real, or more impossible to displace with your hands, than your presence and influence have been to me, there and everywhere, and will be …**_

Holding his breath, Charles prepared for the last bit, the part that had terrified him the most ever since her cancer scare … the thought that he might one day lose this woman without ever knowing how she truly felt for him:

**… **_**to the last hour of my life, you cannot choose but remain part of my character, part of the little good in me, part of the evil. But in this separation I associate you only with the good, and I will faithfully hold you to that always, for you must have done me far more good than harm, let me feel now what sharp distress I may.***_

Charles noticed his hands shaking; once again, he was hit with the force of his own feelings and of something infinitely more powerful … _hope._ Closing the book – _her book, the one she knew I'd never borrow because she knows I own it myself _– he took it with him as he locked the sitting room and headed up to his own quarters. He was unaware, this time, of the tears spilling down his cheeks.

* * *

**A/N:*Passage quoted from Great Expectations, by Charles Dickens**


	8. Chapter Eight: I'm Movin' On

**A/N: Shout out to silhouettedswallow, my awesome Beta, for fantastic turn-around time on this one! Also, I want to thank all the reviewers who have sent me their lovely words of support, particularly the Guest Reviewers that I cannot reply to directly on . Your fantastic messages have made my own heart sing.**

**The Spotify playlist (User: ChelsieSouloftheAbbey; Playlist: Music of the Heart) has five songs for this chapter, listed below. The title stems from my favorite of the enitre story, and I'm no country music fan myself. You may also be interested to know that _The Long Day Is Over_ is the shortest song of the story, and is the one that spawned this entire, epic thing.**

**Song list: **_**Sad, **_**Brother Sun; **_**Into the Dark, **_**Melissa Etheridge; **_**Brave**_**, Idina Menzel; **_**I'm Movin' On, **_**Rascal Flatts; **_**The Long Day is Over,**_** Norah Jones**

_**Trigger warning: This chapter does contain images of violence/abuse that may be difficult for some. **_

**Enough long author's notes! Forward we march, followers. I'm sorry for what's ahead, but I'll get our girl to a better place very, very soon. **

**~ CSotA**

* * *

_I've found you find strength in your moments of weakness,_

_For once I'm at peace with myself._

_I've been burdened with blame, trapped in the past for too long ... I'm movin' on._

_At last I can see life has been patiently waiting for me_

_And I know there's no guarantee, but I'm not alone._

_There comes a time in everyone's life when all you can see are the years passing by,_

_And I have made up my mind that those days are gone..._

_I'm movin' on._

_**~I'm Movin' On, Rascal Flatts**_

* * *

Elsie exited the car that had picked her up from the train station and, suitcase in hand, set off down the walkway that led to the sprawling home where Becky had lived for the past four decades. She approached the building slowly, taking in her surroundings as though she were seeing everything in a new light … dimmer, somehow, than it had been when she'd visited before. The seaside town of Lytham St. Anne's had always been beautiful to her, and Elsie was grateful to have found such a wonderful location for Becky to live after they'd lost their mother to cancer. Elsie had been in her mid-twenties then, Becky just sixteen.

Elsie had gone into service after their father died but she'd remained close to home and managed to visit frequently on her days off. On those days, she and Becky were inseparable. There was a kindness in her sister and a simplicity that Elsie adored after spending most days around the snobbery of the upper classes. Then Mam died, and Elsie was forced to make a decision: stay together on the over-farmed land and potentially starve, or remain in service and send Becky away to be cared for. She had made her decision, and she knew it was the right one. The farm had never been sold and the house now stood empty in Argyll. The cost of Becky's care was great, and it increased annually along with – _thank God _– Elsie's income. She had lived frugally, managing to pay for Becky's care on her earnings alone, but the farm had always been the cushion, the backup plan for funding should Elsie ever find herself unable to continue working. _Like if you'd had cancer … yes, it would have been sold then for sure. _

Elsie stopped in front of the home, staring up at what she knew was the window of Becky's room. Her sister's carers were kind and attentive, and Elsie knew that Becky had truly thrived in this loving community. Every time Elsie had visited, their days were full of laughter and hugs, of music and memory-making. Elsie always felt sad about not visiting Becky more often, but it had not been possible. It was hard enough to leave Downton during the Season let alone during the rest of the year, and the financial burden of the travel was great. As she stood staring at it, she thought the house seemed to be covered in a shroud of sadness, an air of stillness around the place. Whether those were truly its characteristics or just what Elsie was projecting from her own heart, she couldn't say. Forcing herself to climb the steps to the house, she opened the door and entered.

"Hello, Mrs. Hughes," came the kind greeting from the woman at the front desk. The woman was slightly older than Elsie, with wispy gray hair that refused to remain set in its bun. She was short and stout, with a slightly-too-cheerful disposition that often reminded Elsie of Mrs. Crawley. Today, however, she was most subdued. "We are so very sorry to have lost Becky, but of course that is nothing compared to the loss you must feel."

Taking a deep breath Elsie managed to withhold her tears at the woman's words, simply replying, "Mrs. Andrews, thank you so very much. How is dear Nuala holding up?"

"Fairly well, considering. You'll find her in Becky's room, sorting through some things for you."

Elsie thanked the woman, leaving her suitcase and handbag behind the front desk. She proceeded down the hallway to Becky's room, gathering her emotions once again before having to address Nuala. The woman had been Becky's primary carer for many years, and Elsie knew the two had become remarkably close. Becky's letters, while simplistic in their composition, were always filled with stories about Nuala and the good times they shared together, and sometimes the letters were accompanied by a dear illustration. Elsie had those secreted away at the bottom of her trunk at Downton. She would pull them out and look at them whenever she felt guilty about going so long without seeing Becky, and it would warm her heart to know that her darling sister was thriving. Elsie knew no one else would understand her pain and loss as much as Nuala.

Seeing the door slightly ajar, Elsie knocked softly and entered. She found Nuala sitting on Becky's bed, crying, her back to the door. Realizing she'd not heard the knock, Elsie spoke quietly.

"Nuala? I'm here, my dear." She circled the bed and Nuala stood, Elsie enveloping her in a fierce hug. Both women just stood there, crying, Elsie finally able to let go of the feelings she'd pent up again since leaving Downton. Anyone passing by would have seen two women holding on to each other as if for dear life: one older, with graying hair, dressed in a blue suit that was crumpled from an afternoon of travel; the other younger but of the same height, with flaming red and blond hair contained in a long braid, wearing comfortable, informal clothing so that she might blend in with the residents of the home. They stayed like that for a while, gently patting one another's back, each needing time to regain some semblance of control.

"Oh, Mrs. Hughes – Elsie – I am so relieved that you've come!"

"Nuala, if you are able to, please tell me what happened," Elsie said. "No one was quite willing to communicate the sequence of events over the telephone, and … well … I would like to know." _I NEED __to know. This past summer, Becky was thriving … and now she's gone._

Nuala swallowed a couple of times, pulling herself back into her professional identity, and took a moment to answer. "The doctor thinks she was stricken with a heart attack," she explained. "A few days ago, Becky was outside with me and suddenly she collapsed. Tuesday, I think … it's all somewhat of a blur. But she'd awoken quickly, and seemed back to normal within several minutes, so the doctors did not feel you needed to be notified. Then, two days ago, it happened again. That time, however, she did not regain consciousness. Becky was rushed to the hospital ward, and then yesterday afternoon … " The poor girl couldn't continue, and sat heavily on the bed, grasping at Elsie's hand as she did so, and looked her directly in the eye. "I remained by her side the whole time. She was never alone, I promise."

That one statement brought more comfort to Elsie than any other she'd heard these past two days: _She was never alone. Thank God. _Becky hated the thought of being alone, she feared the darkness and the idea of not having constant companionship, and it had gotten worse with age. A few years ago, the home had even allowed her to have a cat, so that she could always have something close by her throughout the night. _Wait … where IS __the cat? _Elsie was curious … there was no sign of it here. _I'll have to remember to ask later._

Elsie dragged herself back to the present. "Nuala, there are no words to express my gratitude for the love and care you've given Becky."

With a nod, Nuala wiped her eyes once again and turned to the box beside her on the bed. "I was going through her things. You know how untidy Becky could be," she said with a chuckle. "I wanted to sort them a bit before you arrived, but perhaps you'd like to do that with me … or instead of me?"

"Together, I think," said Elsie, sitting on the bed next to the box. "Let's see what we have here, shall we?"

Two hours later, all of Becky's belongings had been packed. Becky hadn't been as tall as her sister, so Elsie decided to donate all of the clothing to the home so that it could be put to good use. The box Elsie would be taking home contained sketch books, full of childlike pictures that she couldn't bear to part with. There were also Becky's hair pins, including the butterfly pair that had been her favorite, the ones with a small blue stone in each to match her eyes – they'd been a gift from Elsie for Becky's 40th birthday. There was a lovely, framed sketch of Elsie and Becky together as young girls, some others of her with various residents, and even a photo from last Christmas of Becky, Nuala and the cat. Added to the mix were various trinkets that Becky had held dear: seashells and sand dollars, a few polished stones, a dried flower, and some books from her childhood.

Suddenly remembering her earlier train of thought, Elsie asked, "Nuala, where is Cow?" _Cow. Of course. Because it's white with black spots. Dear Becky – it was really the only possible name for that cat._

"I've no idea. The night Becky fell ill, he disappeared. I think that in all the confusion, someone let him out unintentionally and he got lost. I was terrified at first, knowing if Becky woke she'd be looking for him, but …" she trailed off.

"Yes, well …" replied Elsie softly.

Nuala cleared her throat. "I'm sure you'd like to get some rest," she said. "Shall I call for our car to bring you to your hotel? The memorial service will be here, at ten in the morning."

"Thank you," said Elsie. She picked up the box, then paused and put it back down again, extracting something. "Nuala, I'd like for you to keep this," said Elsie. It was the photo of Becky with Nuala and Cow. Elsie handed it to Nuala, who had tears in her eyes.

"You're sure?" the girl asked.

"Absolutely," Elsie replied firmly. "Becky was so happy in this photograph, and she was so very happy here … thanks a great deal to you. It's only fitting that you have something concrete by which to remember her."

Nuala took the frame from Elsie with a smile and a nod of thanks. She walked Elsie to the front desk, offering to carry the suitcase. Together, they made their way to the chairs on the front porch, waiting for the car that would bring Elsie to her hotel. Neither woman said another word … there was no need.

* * *

The next morning, Elsie awoke in the most comfortable bed she'd ever slept in. _Bless you, Lady Mary … first-class train and a comfortable hotel._ She had finally managed a good night's rest. Breakfast was delivered and Elsie was happy to discover that she was ravenous. She made quick work of the hearty meal and then dressed and gathered her things, noticing through the spacious windows of her room that it appeared to be windy and chilly outside. _Life by the seaside …_

Elsie was not sure what to expect for the memorial event at Becky's home. She knew some of the residents had wanted to do something, and the only things Nuala had mentioned were that it was their typical way of observing a resident's passing and that it would not be a religious service. Elsie was curious. After the service finished, she would return to the train station to head further north to Argyll, where Becky's body had been sent to be buried alongside their parents. She was dreading that with every passing moment.

Elsie had not set foot in Argyll since her mother's death, and being several years older than Becky she had assumed she'd never do so again. She couldn't help but see the irony of her situation, of the _timing_ of it all: she had spent years trying to escape her past, burying it deep within her, and after Charles's confession of love she had precious few moments during which she could envision finally having the life she'd always dreamed of. But Becky's death meant returning to Argyll, and Elsie was terrified. She knew that coming to terms with her secrets would be necessary if she had any hope of an honest and open relationship with the man she loved. And after this visit, Elsie was sure she would never be able to reconstruct even a part of the shield she'd built around her memories. Perhaps, in its own way, Becky's death was helping her on her path toward happiness, but Elsie found herself dreading that journey. She knew she'd return to Downton – _to him _– a changed woman, for better or worse. She also knew that revisiting the farm would be a bloody walk through hell, and Elsie wasn't sure she was ready.

Just before ten in the morning, Elsie was delivered once again to the group home. _For the last time … _She was intrigued to find Nuala and several other women seated on the front porch, the chairs arranged in a circle. She had expected the event to take place indoors, but she wasn't really sure why. As she climbed the stairs toward them, Nuala stood and approached her.

"Good morning, Elsie," she said softly, taking her arm and turning so that the others couldn't hear. "These women were all dear friends of Becky, and wanted to participate in a remembrance of her this morning. Due to the nature and delicate needs of our residents the service will be fairly short and not very involved. I will read a poem that I've chosen and then we'll move throughout the circle, each person having a chance to speak in some way. Most will share a fond memory of Becky, and those that cannot or have chosen not to speak may have some other way of communicating their memories to us. It seems simplistic, but it serves the needs of our community in that it's not overwhelming with detail. Many of the ladies have trouble focusing for too long, and so a typical service doesn't really work for us." She paused, then asked Elsie, "Are you ready for this?"

Elsie nodded and closed her eyes for a moment, a smile coming to her face. Her heart sang as she realized how everything was to play out. _This is EXACTLY __how Becky would have wanted things … surrounded by friends at last, by all the ones who loved her most. _She opened her eyes and looked around the group – eight in total – and took a seat in one of the two empty chairs.

"Please let me introduce Elsie to you all," Nuala said as she sat, addressing the group with the name Becky always used when talking about her sister. _Of course … they'd have no idea who 'Mrs. Hughes' is … _Elsie smiled and nodded silently as she was greeted in soft voices by those around her. A tear slid down her cheek – she paid it no heed.

When everyone was seated comfortably, Nuala read the following poem:

**Dream of a Blessed Spirit, by W.B. Yeats**

_All the heavy days are over; _

_Leave the body's coloured pride _

_Underneath the grass and clover, _

_With the feet laid side by side. _

_One with her are mirth and duty; _

_Bear the gold-embroidered dress, _

_For she needs not her sad beauty, _

_To the scented oaken press. _

_Hers the kiss of Mother Mary, _

_The long hair is on her face; _

_Still she goes with footsteps wary _

_Full of earth's old timid grace. _

_With white feet of angels seven _

_Her white feet go glimmering; _

_And above the deep of heaven, _

_Flame on flame, and wing on wing. _

Elsie loved Yeats, and recognized the poem immediately as a newer one. She realized that Nuala had chosen it because the poem spoke to Becky's beautiful but delicate nature using very concrete and easy to understand examples: her long hair, her wary footsteps, her mirth, her grace. _No wonder everyone loves this woman … she is so good at what she does. She's not babying any of these women by choosing something infantile. _Elsie found herself respecting Nuala even more.

After a pause, Nuala continued. "We will now move throughout our circle, beginning to my right with Clare. As is our custom, you are all free to share something of your choosing about Becky, and we will listen in silence and respect. Should you not wish to contribute, please just say so."

Elsie listened in rapt attention as Clare began, telling an amusing story of the day Becky dropped her cup of milk in the dining hall and the cat came over to lick it up before anyone could get a rag. Evidently the look on Becky's face was priceless, and everyone laughed uproariously at the story, Elsie included. As each member in attendance took her turn, Elsie marveled at the variety of the things they shared. There were a couple more stories involving Cow, followed by a story about the Christmas a few years back when Becky shared her favorite chocolates with everyone and only kept two for herself, and yet another about getting caught in the rain together but being happy at spying a rainbow in the process. One woman sang a song instead of speaking, and one simply passed Elsie a lovely pencil sketch of the two sisters, dancing in a field under an enormous tree. This took Elsie aback, knowing Becky must have told the woman all about those cherished days long ago – the detail in the background of the drawing was extraordinary, as were the looks of happiness on Elsie and Becky's faces. Elsie had been unsure of what to say when it came around to her turn, but after listening to these wonderful voices reflecting on her dear sister, the words flowed effortlessly from her mouth.

"When Becky arrived here, I remember she was so sad. Our Mam had just died, and I needed to keep working to support us both. Becky had to move from the only home she'd ever known. She was so frightened, but then we arrived and she met some of you. None of the others in our town of Argyll had ever understood Becky for who she was, no one outside of our family, but you all welcomed her in. You became her friends – she'd never had any friends before, you see. She was crying when I left her here that first night, but the following week I got the happiest letter from her, telling me of the new people she'd met and the fun she was having. You have all been her family while she's lived here, being present for her when I could not. I will never stop missing my sister; I will love her always and I know that you will, too."

When Elsie had finished, Nuala closed the service with a short prayer. Bowing her head, hands clasped and eyes closed, Elsie barely heard the words … but once again she felt a force of love surrounding her, knowing it was the same one that had surrounded Becky during her time here, and she was comforted. As the prayer came to a close, Elsie heard a murmur pass through the group, and she felt something brush up against her leg. She opened her eyes … _Well, hello there, Cow. Look who's finally found his way home. _She smiled at the cat and he promptly jumped up on her lap, curled into a ball, and fell asleep. He was purring away loudly, the steady rumble soothing Elsie's heart … _Just like someone else you know._

* * *

The train ride to Argyll was long, and Elsie dozed off and on. Despite its brevity and simplicity, the emotional content of the memorial service had taken its toll on her. She was jostled into wakefulness mid-afternoon when the train came to a stop. A porter helped Elsie down with her suitcase, but she refused to relinquish the box of Becky's things.

Yet another car was waiting to drive Elsie from the train station to the Hughes farm in Argyll. _Lady Mary really doesn't do things by halves, does she? Chauffeured here, there and everywhere in between!_ Elsie was grateful for the cover of the automobile as it started to drizzle. _Of course it would rain today … you're in Scotland now, lass. Only it's__ not "home" anymore, is it? _She settled into the car, and gave the directions to the driver.

As the car passed down narrow roads and rolling, green hills, Elsie tried to prepare herself for it all … to see the farm, visit her parents' graves, and pray for the sister who now lay beside them. Becky loved her home in Lytham St. Anne's, and in truth Elsie would have preferred to have buried her there, but she knew her baby sister would want to be home at last even if burial elsewhere had been possible. Plus, it was what her mother had wanted, and Elsie would not go against her wishes.

Over the years, Becky's rather simple mind kept her from remembering much about life with their father. She had told Elsie of a few memories, however, focusing on the fun times she'd had when he'd bring her into town or help her ride the pony. But Elsie, several years older and always wiser than her years, had very few fond memories. _And quite a few awful ones …_ As she neared the farm they started coming back in waves _... f__etching Da from the local, walking him home as he got sick by the roadside … shouts and screams as their parents fought … hiding with Becky in their room, under the covers … their Mam's bruises, carefully hidden from the neighbors' spying eyes … the switch on her backside for the time she couldn't stop Becky from crying in church, because he'd NEVER lay a hand on his dear Becky, and thank the Lord for that._

Halfway up the dirt path that led to the house, Elsie asked the driver to stop. She had to force herself from the seat, so reluctant was she to make this final trek. She asked the driver to wait for her, not sure how long she'd be, and he nodded. The family plot where Becky had just been buried abutted the rear of the Hughes property, and Elsie needed the walk. Slowly, she approached the house … the front steps calling to her, taunting her memory in a silent but menacing voice …

… _the year the crops were poor, because there had been too little rain … the desperate hunger that ensued … the following year, fetching Da once again from the pub and listening to him talk of her marrying the farmer next door – the farmer was twenty-six, she fifteen – because they needed the marriage of the two farms to be secure … her refusal and the sharp sting of his hand … her fervent plea with her Mam to not make her go … and the following night …_

Elsie stopped at the bottom of the steps. She had no idea how long she stood there getting soaked by the drizzle, but she knew her shivering had nothing to do with the weather. It had been so long, and even when Elsie had returned for her Mam's funeral, she never went near the house itself. She took in its dilapidated state now: drooping shingles, a few broken windows, cobwebs in the corners of the doorway, broken floorboards, the hole just beside the steps. _Mam never had that repaired … why?_

… _Mam shouting at Da, insisting her lass would NEVER be married off to that horrid neighbor, no matter what he had arranged at the pub … the sound of his fist connecting with something soft … then, soon after, his footsteps heading back out onto the porch … Elsie and Becky hiding in the barn, Becky's hands over her ears so that she didn't hear … then the final, outraged cry from her Mam and a hideous, deadly sound … the noise from their heavy iron skillet hitting the floorboards, followed by a deafening silence … leading Becky to the house slowly, calming her with their favorite song … "El, why isn't Da getting up? He's not moving!"… Searching for her Mam, and the understanding that dawned as they gazed into each other's deep blue eyes ... reaching for the woman, the one who finally managed to protect her eldest daughter from a future no different from the hellish present they were living … somehow comforting the woman, but swearing her to silence forever …"He fell, Mam, he fell and hit his head, and that's all anyone has to know." … Becky being tucked into bed with Mam … and, finally, the weight of the skillet in her own hand as she created a hole in the floorboard, the one she'd swear he tripped on before falling down the stairs …_

Elsie just stood there, sobbing, as it all flooded through her. She had no regret, she'd done what needed to be done, but the pain of reliving it was agonizing. _How will he ever love me after knowing all of this?_

When the tears finally slowed, she turned and headed to the cemetery. Halfway there, Elsie discovered that her long-buried burden was lessening, just a little. The haunting, hideous memories that had been pent up for all these years were escaping, breaking their way violently out of her at last, and there was nothing she could do to stop them. _But this NEEDS __to be opened up,_ she told herself,_ needs to be released, so that YOU __can be healed. _Sending a prayer of thanks to Becky for making her come and face it at last, Elsie moved ahead to the family's plot.

Gingerly sitting on the grass beside the newly-formed mound of dirt, Elsie allowed herself to cry, wailing and screaming into the wind in an attempt to expel all of the emotions that she'd kept buried inside for years. She sobbed, she raged, she screamed and, eventually, when she felt she had nothing left to give, she sat reflecting on her wonderful memories of Becky, the ones she'd never shared with another living soul but that she would tell Charles all about when she saw him at last. She would finally be leaving behind the horror of her childhood once and for all. _Leaving it all behind, but not keeping it hidden anymore._ She would return to Downton, the only place she'd truly felt was a proper home. She'd return to her other family, to the man she hoped would still love her after she told him about this terrifying trip into her past: of what it cost for her to take it, of the feelings it had brought back, and of where she wanted to be after it was done – right by his side, always.

Having no idea how long she'd sat upon the ground, Elsie managed to get up slowly, her body aching and creaking from age and the dampness of the weather. She made her way slowly across the farm, looking around the property one final time. _The moment you get back on your feet, you're selling the goddamn thing to the first person who wants it. _Arriving at the car, she saw the driver waiting patiently for her, and she appreciated that he spoke only to check the name of her lodgings. She confirmed the information he had and he drove her there in silence, never questioning her disheveled and muddy appearance, the way her face must have swelled and reddened, or the hoarseness in her voice. _Bless him._

* * *

At long last, Elsie entered her hotel room, noting that a fire that had been laid in the grate. She kicked off her shoes and peeled off her damp clothing, ran a hot bath, and poured herself a brandy from the decanter on the table. Lowering herself into the deep tub, Elsie drank the brandy slowly, relishing the burning of the hot water on her skin and the sting of the drink in her raw throat. Both were making her feel more alive than she had in days. She felt like the phoenix: reborn. She knew she had gone through the flames of her own personal hell and had emerged on the other side; she was raw, changed, and ready for new days ahead. She realized once and for all that she could accept with thanks this path that had been her life, for it had led her to become the one thing she'd always wanted to be … _free._

_A true gauntlet with a gift in it … thank you, Becky, for allowing me to be released._

* * *

**A/N 2: The lovely silhouettedswallow beta-read this chapter and mentioned it sounds an AWFUL LOT like a storyline from the TV show **_**Last Tango in Halifax. **_**I've never seen the show, so that was completely unintentional ... but weird, huh?**


	9. Chapter Nine: Feels Like Home

**A/N: I've lost count of the commas the wonderful **_**silhouettedswallow**_** has removed from my stories. She earns my eternal gratitude for that (and for effortlessly finding JUST the word that I spent days trying to come up with). **

**This chapter's song choice comes from the **_**Dawson's Creek**_** soundtrack - "Feels Like Home," sung by Chantal Kreviazuk. It's AMAZING – and it's on the Spotify playlist. Go to Spotify's website, Username: ChelsieSouloftheAbbey, Playlist: Music of the Heart**

**Thanks for the many reviews, which keep encouraging me. **

**CSotA**

* * *

_If you knew how lonely my life has been_

_And how long I've been so alone_

_And if you knew how I wanted someone to come along_

_And change my life the way you've done..._

_It feels like home to me._

_**~"Feels Like Home," by Chantal Kreviazuk**_

* * *

The house was a flurry of activity on Saturday morning. Lord and Lady Grantham were to return that afternoon – three days earlier than planned – due to a plumbing issue at Lady Rosamund's house, and no one had yet heard from Mrs. Hughes. Charles and Anna were furiously rearranging rotas, but it was trying at best. They'd been at loose ends all week without their formidable housekeeper and, now that she would be returning sometime soon as well, Anna in particular was feeling like she needed to get a great deal done to have it all up to snuff.

For what seemed like the hundredth time that week, Anna was reminded why she preferred the role of lady's maid. Being housekeeper meant there were invoices to tally, staff to oversee and dinners to arrange. Anna was relishing the times spent dressing Lady Mary this week; they were much less involved than the supervisory jobs she had to do filling in for Mrs. Hughes. Not that she begrudged the extra work – she'd do anything for the woman – but truly, she was exhausted mentally and physically. She couldn't believe how desperately she missed her husband. _As if I'd have two moments to even speak to him_, she mused sadly. _I can't wait for you to return, Mrs. Hughes!_

Then there was Charles. He admired Anna's ability and her knowledge of the housemaids' capabilities but realized once again that it was just easier working with Mrs. Hughes. There was something wonderful about working alongside a woman who could invariably read his mind and anticipate his concerns. He'd had a lingering ache in his heart these last couple of days. _I miss you_, he thought. _So much I can taste it._

Suddenly, as if by divine intervention, the phone on Charles's desk rang. _Oh, please let it be her …_

"You've reached Downton Abbey. This is Mr. Carson, the –" he managed to get out.

"Hello, Mr. Carson," came the tired voice over the line.

_Thank God it's her! Ahhh, her voice … the brogue is so much thicker, deeper somehow. Probably because she's home … But yet, she sounds … hoarse? _"Mrs. Hughes, how are you? You sound … unwell?" _Oh, VERY __nicely done, Charles … such a "__welcoming"__ thing to say, you old fool … _But then he heard a brief chuckle and his fears were allayed. _Well, alright then?_

"Yes, well, it has been an … eventful … couple of days," Elsie said. "How are things at the house?" she asked quickly. _How are YOU? Please, please natter on about meaningless details about the house, so that I can return to a sense of normalcy._

Charles heard a desperate need in her words, as if she craved any conversation that would veer off the path of the days she'd just spent. "Well, it's been a whirlwind around here. His Lordship and Her Ladyship are returning early – this afternoon, in fact – and Anna and I are trying to get everything sorted. When will you be returning?" he said.

Elsie laughed at that. "Surely working with Anna isn't THAT bad?" she joked softly.

"What? No! No, but … well … it's not the same," he said meekly.

"Yes, I know," Elsie replied softly. "And have no fear, Mr. Carson – I am anxious to return. I'll be on the three o'clock, actually. But with Lord and Lady Grantham returning as well, I'll plan to get transportation for myself in Ripon." Elsie had no desire whatsoever to return to the Abbey with her employers, and she had no difficulty believing Lady Mary would arrange just that if she were given the opportunity. Hopefully Charles would understand that without being told. _Of course he will. _

"Splendid," he answered. "That will give you time to unpack, and Anna will see you tomorrow to turn everything over. Shall I let everyone know to expect you at breakfast?"

"Yes, thank you." said Elsie. _Good … that gives you time to get it together, Els. Better to start a fresh day tomorrow, maybe take a tray in your room this evening … or in your sitting room, with a little sherry? _Elsie was tired once again, and the trip back from Argyll would be lengthy. _And hopefully you'll SOUND __normal tomorrow, too._

Charles paused a minute, lowering his voice. "Safe travels, Mrs. Hughes. We'll see you soon."

"Good-bye for now, Mr. Carson. I look forward to it," came her reply.

He replaced the receiver and looked up to see Anna standing in the doorway, smiling at him, understanding and kindness in her eyes. He could feel the blush crawling from his chest on upward and knew she saw it, too.

"It's alright, Mr. Carson," she said softly, giving him a gentle nod. "You can rest assured … your secret is safe with me."

* * *

As the rest of the morning flew by, Charles was eternally grateful that it would fall to Anna to let Mrs. Patmore know of the family's change in plans. But oddly, increasing the amount of people for dinner didn't faze the cook. Evidently the news that Mrs. Hughes would return that afternoon had also been communicated, lessening the blow considerably, and everything seemed well taken care of. _Well done, Anna. _

Finding himself with a few hours free, Charles made his way to his pantry. Once again, Mr. Barrow had volunteered to oversee the family's meal, and Charles was taking every advantage. He'd given up trying to figure out if the under-butler had an ulterior motive for his kindness and chose to attribute it to the man's fondness for Mrs. Hughes. _She always did understand him better than the rest of us, and goodness knows she's always gone out of her way to be kind to him__**.**__ Perhaps he's turning over a new leaf … or perhaps you're just lucky. No matter._

Just then, the phone rang, startling him. _This cannot possibly be her again._ Answering it, Charles was surprised to hear the voice of Lord Grantham.

"Carson," he began, "Her Ladyship and I plan to dine with Lady Rosamund at a restaurant in London. Her kitchen is out of service until tomorrow, and she didn't want to dine alone. Please inform everyone that we'll return on the nine o'clock instead, won't you?"

"Of course, Milord. I'll have the driver at the station to meet you."

Hanging up the phone, Charles headed to the kitchen to inform Mrs. Patmore of this newest change. She seemed a bit more annoyed this time around, but one look at his face told her that it would not be wise to add to his troubles. She simply assured him that the staff would enjoy something extra for dinner. Feeling doubly blessed that Mrs. Patmore was (mostly) calm about the ever-changing plans, Charles headed back to his pantry once more. He was tempted to close and lock the door behind himself but chose at the last minute to leave it ajar.

Sitting at his desk, Charles opened a drawer and removed the book he'd been hiding inside. Turning for what seemed like the hundredth time to that lovely, bracketed passage, he read it, once again enjoying the warm feeling that pervaded his heart each time he did so. _Now … you really should RETURN __this, but … _

A smile appearing on his face, Charles formulated a plan. It was tricky, it had too many variables, and it would be decidedly impossible to carry off without help. Taking a leap of faith, he removed a crisp, cream-colored sheet of stationary from its box and took his pen in hand. With precious little time to waste, he laid pen to paper and set everything in motion. Halfway through his message, he noticed that he was humming a tune that had, over the past days, become increasingly dear in his heart.

* * *

Elsie climbed onto the train and took her seat. _What a very spacious, comfortable and LOVELY __seat, _she thought happily, looking forward to a restful journey back. Ordering some tea and honey, she sat back and looked out the window as the train started, leaving Argyll further behind with every spin of the wheels. _Thank God. _Truly, Elsie loved Scotland and in many ways always would, but she hoped to never see her childhood town again. Her tea arrived and she drank it slowly, relishing as the heat and honey soothed her still scratchy throat. She then put her head back and promptly fell asleep.

Waking hours later, Elsie stretched her aching muscles and tried to massage the crick in her neck. As she looked around, she noticed that she'd be arriving very soon and was a bit annoyed with herself for missing luncheon. However, she was excited – and not a little apprehensive – to be returning to Downton. _What are you going to tell him? Best to get to the heart of it sooner, is it not? But with the family returning today as well, there will likely be no time. Better to think on it and approach the conversation tomorrow, at the end of the day, over your wine. Or maybe whiskey … yes, that worked well last time … _Elsie smiled at that and, feeling decided, started to straighten her coat and hat.

As the train pulled in to the station, Elsie disembarked and thanked the porter for his assistance with her bag, but she continued to clutch the box of Becky's things to her heart as if she were afraid someone would take them away. The porter gave her a curious look but wisely said nothing. Just then, Elsie heard a familiar voice.

"Mrs. Hughes! There you are, right on time," said Mr. Branson.

"Oh, Mr. Branson! Are you here to meet the rest of the family?" Elsie wondered, brow crinkling in confusion.

"No, they aren't returning for a few more hours – change in plan," he explained. "No, I thought I might come and fetch you, actually. It was no trouble, and I'm sure it will be more comfortable than a hired car back to the house."

Elsie was taken aback by his kindness, but managed a weak, "Well, if you're sure it's no trouble … then, thank you."

Tom reached down and picked up her suitcase. Before she could object, he looked at her with a twinkle in his eye and said, "Not one word about impropriety, Mrs. Hughes, or I'll have to pull rank as a family member and carry it anyhow." He winked at her, and she smiled.

"Well, we can't have you doing that, Mr. Branson. Thank you."

The two of them made their way to the car and Tom loaded Elsie's suitcase. As he reached for the box, Elsie just shook her head.

"No, thank you … I think I'd rather hold onto this myself, for just a while longer," she said, her eyes filling up a bit. _Not now, Els … enough with the tears for now._

Tom looked at her with such love and kindness that her heart almost broke right then and there. "Absolutely, Mrs. Hughes. I understand," he said.

Neither of them spoke another word until they reached the house, and Tom pretended not to notice the few tears that she brushed from her lashes along the way.

* * *

Charles had just finished up his note when a knock sounded at his door.

He looked up and notice Mr. Barrow in the doorway. Inviting him in, Charles looked at him expectantly. "Yes, Mr. Barrow? How may I help you?"

The under-butler looked decidedly uncomfortable. "I just wanted to say that I'm happy Mrs. Hughes is returning today, sir, and that I've appreciated the trust you've put in me to help you manage things in her absence."

Charles bristled at that but saw none of the characteristic, smarmy look on the man's face. _"Manage" things, indeed … But he truly does seem to be grateful. How interesting. _

The under-butler continued, "Over the years, Mr. Carson, not many here have shown me much kindness. I admit I've not often deserved it, but Mrs. Hughes has been most … helpful to me, sir … during dark times that I've had. I am sorry that she's going through a difficult time, and I've been grateful to return the favor in some small way. Thank you for allowing me the chance."

Charles swallowed, feeling simultaneously uncomfortable at the idea of actually praising the man before him and astonished at the clear emotion behind the words. He took a deep, contemplative breath. "It is I who should be thanking you, Mr. Barrow. You've done an impeccable job overseeing most of the family's meals over these past few days, and I'm certain that His Lordship will be impressed when I tell him of your service."

Mr. Barrow simply replied, "Thank you, Mr. Carson." With that, he turned and left the room.

_Hmmm … maybe she was right about him after all._

Shaking his head as he exited his pantry, Charles headed off to see Mrs. Patmore. Listening to his plan, the cook smiled and nodded enthusiastically. "Yes, Mr. Carson, I can certainly take care of that for you. Come back around two?"

"Perfect," he replied. "Not a word, Mrs. Patmore … _Not. One. Word_."

"Swear on my mother's grave," came her reply. She then reached over and squeezed him arm. "I'd do nothing to ruin this … it's _brilliant_, Mr. Carson."

Smiling and thanking her, he turned and headed off to check in with Anna and obtain her assistance for the last, but most crucial, bit of his plan.

* * *

As the car pulled up the long drive to Downton, Elsie gazed at it in wonder. The splendor of the estate would never cease to amaze her. Sprawling lawns, gentle hills topped by seemingly endless skies, and – most of all - the beloved, secluded lake which she knew lay just over the horizon. _THIS __is where you come from now, Elsie Hughes. THIS is __where you belong._

There was a cool autumn breeze today, but none of the chilly rains or strong winds she'd recently endured on her journey. It appeared to Elsie as if the panorama before her was singing to her, calling her home. She was almost breathless with anticipation. _Home … truly home at last._

Tom pulled the car up to the front of the house and parked. He opened Elsie's door before she could manage it herself, and helped her out of the car. Stretching a bit, Elsie looked at him and simply said, "Thank you, Mr. Branson."

He smiled and nodded, reaching for her suitcase. "Please allow me to help you with this," he said. "I'll walk around with you." He extended his arm, indicating for Elsie to proceed first, and they headed to the servants' entrance. She knew better than to admonish him for using it, knew that it had been a hard habit for him to break, and not many people would be around at this time of day to even notice anyway.

Entering the dimly lit hallway, Elsie stood for a moment and took a deep breath. Smells of cooking, shoe polish, old wood … all scents of home. It was fairly quiet, except for some noises coming from the kitchen. Elsie imagined hearing a rumbling baritone echo down the hall, but she knew it was only in her mind. There didn't seem to be any sign of Mr. Carson at all. _That's odd. _

Suddenly, Elsie noticed something – _someone_ – tearing around the corner, almost careening right into her.

"Anna! Whatever are you flying about for?" came Elsie's stern question before she could even think to tame it.

"Oh, Mrs. Hughes! I'm so very happy to see you," Anna uttered. "I heard the car arrive and ran down to greet you, to welcome you back."

Elsie smiled brightly at her. "Thank you, Anna. I've missed you as well. I understand you have had things quite under control?"

"Well, I've had quite a bit of help," Anna said with a smirk. A knowing glance passed between the two women, and Elsie smiled.

"Yes, well, I imagine you have, but that's no reason to diminish the role you yourself have played. You've no idea how much I appreciate it," Elsie told her.

"You are more than welcome," replied Anna. "I understand we shall meet after breakfast tomorrow morning, and I can turn everything back over to you?"

"That is perfect, Anna, thank you," said Elsie. She paused, and then put the box on the floor and gave Anna a warm hug.

Tom watched the scene before him with amusement and not a little tenderness. _This woman is so well-loved_, he thought. _Perhaps now she has some understanding of just how much._ _Everyone under this roof must owe her a debt of gratitude for one thing or another._

* * *

Charles heard the car approaching, and his heart almost leaped out of his chest. _She's here! _

He rushed to the wine cellar, the one place he knew she wouldn't venture, holding a large parcel in his arms. _Now to wait her out. _Charles knew she'd have to unpack and was sure she would head directly upstairs. _Always taking care of the job that needs doing._ The one thing that would surely ruin his plan now would be if she found him …

* * *

Heading down the hallway, Elsie's heart was racing with anticipation of finally laying eyes on a certain, stoic butler. She'd sent Mr. Branson away gently, having thanked him for helping with her bag, and she'd spotted Andy and asked him to bring her suitcase up to the door outside the women's corridor. He'd responded happily, seeming grateful to be of assistance. Elsie passed the boot room – _empty _– and then noticed Mr. Barrow heading into the kitchen. _Why is HE __serving? Where is Mr. Carson?_

Entering the kitchen, Elsie watched as Mr. Barrow picked up the tea tray. "Good afternoon," she said in her most housekeeper-like voice.

"Mrs. Hughes!" squealed Daisy. "Oh, I'm ever so glad to see you!"

"Thank you, Daisy. I can assure you, I'm ever so glad to be back."

Mr. Barrow gave her a genuine smile, saying quietly, "I'm glad to see you as well, Mrs. Hughes. Things … well … they haven't been the same since you've been gone." With that, he took the tray and headed upstairs.

Elsie was stunned, assuming she knew very well to what "things" Mr. Barrow was referring. She was rarely speechless in front of her staff, but the remark shook her to her very core. _He's missed me … well … let's hope he doesn't change his mind after we've spoken … after he learns the truth._

"Elsie?" The question came almost in a whisper, highly uncharacteristic of Beryl Patmore. "Are you alright, love? You look as though you've just seen a ghost."

Elsie shook her head sadly. "No, not today. No more of those for a good while, I hope."

The cook looked with tenderness at the woman who'd become such a dear friend to her. "It hasn't been the same, really, but with assistance from Anna and Mr. Barrow he's managed rather well. Mr. Barrow has been a true surprise, extraordinary really, helping Mr. Carson out with this and that. None of us would have quite believed it, but it's true."

"Yes," answered Elsie. "Mr. Barrow does have his moments. I'm glad if they're no longer few and far between."

"Shall I have Daisy bring you something up to eat?" asked Beryl. "I presume you're heading up to unpack?"

"That would be lovely," Elsie said. She smiled at Beryl, squeezing her hand in thanks – _for friendship, love, and support_, her eyes said – and headed up to her room.

* * *

Charles exited the wine cellar after waiting five more minutes, making absolutely sure he did _not _hear a certain Scottish housekeeper's voice any longer. _Better safe than sorry_, he thought. Putting his bundle down under his desk, he picked up the item resting on his chair and headed off to find Anna. _The easiest bit of all _… _SHE'LL __be tickled to hear of this._

* * *

Elsie entered her room, and sat heavily on the bed. She looked around for a bit, taking in each item in the room. Bookshelves, windowsill, her desk, the bedside table. She was already imagining various items contained within the "Becky box," as she was referring to it in her mind, and where they'd end up. Seashells by the bedside, a small photo on the desk, illustration books fitted in with novels. She knew it would warm her heart to feel surrounded by her sister's memory. With a sigh, Elsie rose and began to unpack.

A knock, and then Daisy's meek voice. "Mrs. Hughes? I've brought you a little something to get you through until dinner. Mrs. Patmore wasn't sure if you'd eaten on the train …" she trailed off.

"My, my, Daisy. We must not make a habit of you waiting on me in my room," Elsie said with a twinkle in her eye.

"Oh, I'm happy to!" replied the young woman. "I really am so happy to see you." With that, she gave a little bob and scooted back downstairs to help with the small dinner preparations.

Elsie noted her favorite biscuits, some fruit and some scones and cream on the tray. _A "little something" before dinner? _Elsie chuckled, and then poured herself some tea and helped herself to one of the lovely scones. _Just a bit of a rest, then unpack, stop by the laundry … and verify that my sitting room is still spotless._

* * *

As Elsie entered her parlour a little while later, she was pleased to see that it looked as though she'd never left. Moving toward her desk, she sat in her chair. She was looking for her ledger, realizing after a moment that Anna must have brought it home. _No time for doing that here if she's been attending to Lady Mary, _Elsie thought with some guilt. _I hope it's not been too much for her. _

Looking around the room, Elsie had the distinct feeling that something wasn't quite right. Her desk seemed in order, and nothing else seemed to be out of place. She perused the walls, the small end tables, the chairs where she and Charles had their sherry, the bookshelves … _hold on__, those don't look quite right ..._ Approaching, she bent down to see what was missing. _Wait … where IS it? _Hearing a knock at the door, Elsie turned and saw Anna enter.

"Mrs. Hughes, I'm sorry to disturb you, but Mr. Carson left this for you." She held out what looked like a small box, wrapped neatly in brown paper, with a simple tie of twine around it. _A gift?_

"Mr. Carson?" Elsie replied, hoping she sounded normal but knowing, now more than ever, that almost nothing slipped by Anna unnoticed. "Thank you," she said, taking the small package from the maid's hand.

"My pleasure," said Anna, a smile on her lips as she left.

Elsie slowly loosened the neat bow and lifted the edges of the wrapping. Realizing her hands were shaking, she finally managed to remove the paper from the … _book. MY book. _Elsie fell onto her settee in astonishment. _Well, well … NOW we know where you disappeared to, don't we? _Gazing at the book, and wondering exactly what her butler had been doing with it when she knew perfectly well he had his own copy, she noted a small envelope peeking out from the cover. It bore four words in a lovely, carefully learned script – four words that made her heart sing: _My Dearest Mrs. Hughes._

Elsie tore open the envelope with her still-shaking hands. She removed one single sheet of crisp, folded paper, somewhat confused. _What did you expect, lass, a missive declaring his love? He's already done that!_ Unfolding it, she read the following words:

_I contemplated the lake … the waters were placid, all around was calm … the calm and heavenly scene restored me, and I continued my journey …_

_Please forgive me the incomplete quote, but I trust you know I've not ended up in Geneva. I await your return with open arms._

_C.C.*_

Elsie smiled broadly, biting her bottom lip in child-like excitement. She knew immediately the origin of the quote – _decidedly NOT__Dickens _– and where to find Mr. Carson. She didn't even wonder how he knew that it was her favorite place, or whether it was presumptuous of him to assume she'd go. After spending her voyage back to Downton afraid of losing this man's love – the love that she had only very recently discovered – her fears were suddenly brushed aside. Elsie knew now that she had nothing to be afraid of. She could trust this man with her life and her heart. _You always could, really … and, deep down, haven't you always known?_

Practically flying down the hallway, Elsie didn't realize at first that she was still clutching the letter. She saw it in her hand as she reached for her coat and tucked it lovingly into her pocket. Trying very, very hard not to run full-tilt, Elsie made her way carefully down to the lake, where she hoped the rest of her life was waiting.

* * *

***The quote is from Mary Shelley's Frankenstein … _sewn-up bits indeed. _**


	10. Chapter Ten: Strange Fire

**A/N: Well … here we are. Funny, not a ONE of you reviewers (you wonderful, lovely reviewers with your oh-so-kind and supportive words that keep me going) asked for another chapter where the lovebirds wouldn't talk to each other. No one asked for me to avoid hugging, or kissing, or holding ... how strange … ;) I cannot believe we're almost at 100 reviews on this story - my undying gratitude to you all! I wish I could reply to the guest reviewers, for your words are just as important as the ones I CAN answer. xx**

**And thanks again to silhouettedswallow for beta services rendered! Her sense of sarcasm matches my own, something that makes reading her notes a fabulous experience!**

**Remember to check out the songs that inspired the story on Spotify; "ChelsieSouloftheAbbey" and "Music of the Heart" will get you there...**

* * *

I come to you with strange fire; I make an offering of love.

The incense of my soul is burned by the fire in my blood.

_I come with a softer answer to the questions that lie in your path._

_I want to harbor you from the anger, find a refuge from the wrath._

**This is a message, a message of love,**

**Love that moves from the inside out, love that never grows tired.**

**I come to you with strange fire…**

**~"Strange Fire," by The Indigo Girls**

* * *

After her tumultuous journey of the past few days, Elsie could finally see the possibility of true joy in the days ahead. She knew she had returned to a house full of people that truly cared for her well-being and happiness. What was more, her new financial situation (thanks to a property that was soon to be for sale in Argyll) had her in wonderful spirits.

But those things paled in comparison to the future she envisioned with her butler. So used to keeping her feelings hidden deep inside, Elsie was shocked by a sensation of burning love that was threatening to encompass her entire being. _More than love, lass … be honest … there IS a spark of something more … _She rejoiced in the knowledge that the man she'd loved all these years loved her right back. Approaching the lake with a bursting excitement, she felt a strange and passionate fire running through her veins.

Elsie also acknowledged a remnant of trepidation lying under the excitement, but only because she still had to relive her story one more time. She knew she had to tell Mr. Carson (_Charles…_) about it, and while she wasn't really afraid he'd hate her for it, she feared it wouldn't sit well with that "one must follow the rules without question" part of his brain. If all went well he'd understand that she'd had no choice, that there had really been no alternate path. Hopefully he would be able to offer some comfort as she struggled through the memories once again. _Remember that he loves you, and evidently he has for a great deal of time._ Elsie held on to that thought with everything she had.

Getting closer to the lake, Elsie's eyes fell upon the calm water and … _wait_._ What in the world? Where did that come from? _She stopped short, taking in the scene before her. She'd expected to see Charles standing on the dock, waiting to welcome her home; instead, she was confused by the presence of … _a bench? _ She'd spent enough time at the lake to know it had never been there before. It was beautifully crafted: strong, pale yellow sides made of stone that enclosed a wooden seat and back. The wood had a brilliant shine to it, with deep tones of brown that had a hint of red underneath. It was clearly brand new, and the wood gleamed in the afternoon sun. The reflection of the light off the water and the sight of the liveried man seated upon it took her breath away. His back was to her and for a brief moment Elsie thought he might asleep. But then she saw him straighten almost imperceptibly, and she knew that he was aware of her presence. Elsie took a moment to steady herself before moving down the gentle slope toward the water's edge, a shyness creeping in on her excitement and anticipation. She felt rather like a schoolgirl and took a moment to revel in it. Then, gathering herself one last time, she made her way purposefully toward her goal.

Charles had been sitting as patiently as he was able. He focused on the way the sunlight bounced off the ripples being carried to the shore on a gentle afternoon breeze. He had been lost in a daydream, one of beautiful days (_and, hopefully, beautiful NIGHTS __…_) ahead with his love. Flipping through images in his mind – memories of quiet chats, heated disagreements and "atmospheres," splendid parties they'd pulled off seamlessly, and an infinite number of glasses filled with sherry or wine – he was suddenly brought back to reality by the presence he sensed behind him. _She's here … she came. _

Charles was almost bursting with anticipation. It was all he could do not to turn around to watch her approach. He felt as if it had been weeks instead of days since he'd laid eyes on her, and he wanted (_needed_) to be lost in the depths of her sparkling eyes, to feel the warmth of her hands in his, perhaps to feel the softness of her forehead against his lips. But he remained still, knowing instinctively that she needed to come to him at her own pace.

_Yes, and_ _undoubtedly __she is wondering about the bench … that will be a surprise for sure. _

Charles knew for a fact that she'd never seen it before because he'd just had it delivered that afternoon. Spotting it in town months ago, he'd been struck by how the stonework matched the color of the Abbey … and how the reddish hue given off by the dark boards matched the housekeeper's hair when the sunlight bounced off of it in the summertime. After slipping the envelope into her book, he'd placed a call to the shop to arrange purchase and immediate delivery. Anna had thankfully agreed to meet the delivery men outside and show them to the lakeside. _You owe a great debt of gratitude to both her and Mr. Bates for keeping your secrets, _he thought, and he hoped the events of this past week signified the beginning of a true friendship with the younger couple, one that would help him maintain a connection with the house long after he retired.

Hearing her footsteps get nearer at last, Charles stood and turned to face her. He was grateful for the flowers in his hand, for their cool and steady presence, because the moment his eyes met hers it felt as if the entire world fell away from him. She came to him steadily, with a determined stride, her brilliant smile reflecting his own. As she got closer still, he noticed that her face told a tale of happiness, of calm mixed with a hint of trepidation, but most importantly of overwhelming _love_**. **He was happy that he knew her so very well and could see it all in a flash.

Elsie reached the bench, and Charles stepped around it to meet her. He extended the flowers and she accepted them slowly, her brilliant eyes shining up at him. "Thank you," she said softly.

Charles took a deep breath. "Welcome home, Mrs. Hughes. Forgive me for being rather forward, but I feel as though I've been waiting over half my life for this day." _For the day you'd bring your love to me at last._

She closed her eyes briefly and nodded at his words, overwhelmed by emotion. Reaching over to place the flowers on the bench, she took that final step forward so that their bodies almost touched. That was all Charles needed. He wrapped his arms around her, enclosing her in a warm and loving embrace. He was so moved by the experience of holding her at last that he almost missed her slightly muffled words:

"I agree; I feel like I've truly come home at last." Then, she added with her trademark sass, "I'm glad I didn't have to travel all the way to Switzerland for this."*

Charles chuckled softly, very aware of the warmth that pervaded his body. He ran his hands slowly up and down her spine, caressing her with the utmost reverence. Despite years of seeing her every day, he'd somehow never realized just how small she was compared to him … just how delicate this strong, determined woman would feel in his arms.

After a few moments he could tell from the change in her breathing that she was crying. He imagined all of that sorrow flowing out of her own body and into him, into his very soul. He tried to pull it from her, wanting to care for it as he cared for her. But he also felt something besides the sorrow emanating from her. _It's love. It's her __love__ you feel. It's surrounding you, wrapping you in its tenderness. _Charles had never experienced anything like this in his life. This was a sharing of emotions on an almost primal level, and he was amazed at the force of his body's response to it. _You thought you loved Alice, but it was NOTHING like this. Nothing else could ever feel like this does right now. _

He tightened his grip ever so slightly and delighted in how she appeared to be holding on to him for dear life. It made him feel honored, blessed to be the one to whom she would come when she was perhaps at her most vulnerable. He bent down and kissed the top of her head once, then again, and finally rested his face in her hair. _Lemons and lavender_, he thought. _She smells of lemons and lavender. _Willing himself to not lose control of _every_ aspect of his physical self, Charles focused instead on his surroundings – _lake, breeze, rustling leaves, lapping water, new bench _– and managed to wrangle his thoughts back into a state of decency.

Elsie somehow realized they couldn't possibly stay embracing like that forever (_as much as you'd like to …_) and she loosened her grip around Charles's middle. Placing her hands on his chest, she pushed herself slightly back so that she could look him directly in the eyes. She noticed their darkened color and flushed slightly. She knew instinctively what it meant, and a small gasp escaped her lips as her heart started racing. _You cannot have those thoughts now, Els … very, very bad timing … rein it in, lass. _

Charles was smirking at her, eyes twinkling. She felt – _knew _– that he could pluck every thought right out of her just when she didn't think the moment could get any more intense, she both heard and felt the low, humming melody coming out of his body. _The music! _She'd completely forgotten. She fixed him with an astonished look. "You know, I've been meaning to ask you about that."

He stopped suddenly. "Yes, I wondered if that was the question on your mind … the night I so shamelessly interrupted you," Charles answered.

"How? Where …" her voice trailed off, knowing he would understand. The sound of the music coming from him had absolutely stunned her, but Elsie was aware that it was a bridge of sorts. It was the final pathway that would connect his life to not only her present, but also her past.

Charles smirked. "Oh … do you recognize it?"

She laughed at that, pushing him away slightly with her hands. "You obviously know that I do, but I have not heard it for many, many years … almost too many to count."

"It took me countless hours of pondering before I realized when I'd first heard it," Charles said. "For weeks, it was only the background noise to my dreams: our day at the beach, walks back from town, days spent working side by side." He paused. "It must be very old … is it something from Scotland?"

Elsie looked away, tears slipping down her face again. She felt one of his hands leave her waist and was terrified at the sense of loss, only to be soothed a second later as he (_oh, so gently_) wiped those tears from her cheek with his thumb. She leaned into his hand and closed her eyes, basking in the intimacy of his simple gesture. She marveled at the softness of his fingertips, knowing very well how hard the man worked every day. Looking at him once again, she answered.

"Actually, the song itself is Welsh; it's a lullaby, which you may have gathered from the sound. It was the song I always sang to Becky. I would alter the words as the years went on and our lives changed, but the tune was always the same. I cannot remember the last time I sang or even heard it, except for last week. I must have been just a girl still, on the farm, but …" Elsie furrowed her brow and nibbled on her lip in concentration, searching her memory.

Charles smiled lovingly at her, eyebrows raised. "I can assure you that you were not on the farm."

He waited to see if it would come to her, and he noticed the very instant that the answer dawned in her eyes. "Oh, my … all that time ago?" she whispered.

"Yes. Once I remembered I almost didn't believe it myself – thought it might be a trick of my mind, a false memory – but then it came back to me clear as if it were happening today."

They stared into each other's eyes, sharing the memory. _Her first day at Downton, feeling so homesick for Becky and guilty about having left her in a strange place. Seeing no one nearby but having the sensation she was being watched nonetheless … by a man who stood at the top of the field, his eyes on the new head housemaid sitting by the lake who seemed to be crying. Then, the soft lilt of her Scottish brogue, carried along the wind to him on the wings of a haunting, loving melody: "Though sad fate our lives may sever, parting will not last forever; there's a hope that leaves me never, all through the night."**_

"I was so homesick, so sad to not have Becky beside me. All the strength I'd mustered to leave her, to come so far away for a good position at Downton … it all left me that evening and a deep sadness overtook me. I knew there was no turning back, knew I'd made the right decision, but the sorrow hit me so suddenly I thought I would shatter. The first moment I could find, I ran from the house. That was when I first stumbled upon this lake, and I've visited countless times since. It's always been my refuge."

She looked away, suddenly embarrassed at her frailty from all those years ago. "I felt you there, you know, on that day. I couldn't see you, but I knew you were there. You saw me at what may be one of the weakest moments of my life." She laughed suddenly and continued, "You seem to be making a habit of that."

Charles said nothing at all – he refused to interrupt her thoughts, and he was amazed that after all this time she remembered feeling his presence as he had watched her in silence. He let the hand that had fallen from her face rest at his side, but refused to remove the other from her waist just yet.

She continued speaking then, telling him more … about the song a Welsh salesman had taught her family the night he visited the farm. He was an old friend of her father's, brought home from the pub to spend the night before continuing on his travels. She told of the delight in Becky's eyes upon hearing a new song. "Becky was always so attuned to music," Elsie said. "She was simple-minded in many ways, but she was a genius when it came to remembering a tune, and she had the most beautiful voice." Elsie told of how she and Becky would spend hours upon hours in the fields by the farm, singing and dancing and reveling in the small joys of the nature that surrounded them, things like the birth of a calf or the bringing in of a bountiful crop. She told him how she'd insisted on teaching Becky her letters and numbers, how to write her name and those of their family and friends, and of how she'd bring home storybooks from the schoolhouse to read to her sister as they sat under their favorite tree.

Elsie pulled away from Charles suddenly, clasping her hands together and turning to face the lake. Shocked by her movement, but realizing she must need her space, he remained where he was. He knew instantly that this would be the telling of her most difficult feelings, of the reason her voice was so shaken and splintered when she'd phoned, and of the dark circles under her eyes that spoke volumes of how little sleep she'd had over the course of her journey back to Argyll.

"You need to understand how it was, how hard I have tried to … escape. To hide myself in this life, this precious life here at Downton that I carefully built for myself from the ground up. I suspect that, in your mind, growing up on a farm meant I had some sort of stable life, but that couldn't be further from the truth." She paused, weighing her words, now furiously wringing her hands. "I'm not from what you'd call a respectable background, Mr. Carson, and you need to know all of it before this … well, whatever we have here … moves any further forward." Taking a breath, she forged ahead, grateful that Charles was still standing there behind her, that he hadn't abandoned her upon hearing that proclamation.

"Becky was the highlight of my life in those childhood years. My father was not a kind or caring man, and our house was never full of joy or happiness. When Becky came along I was eight years old. But in many ways I was already grown, no longer an innocent girl without responsibility … without secrets to hide from the neighbors. We knew after a couple of years that Becky wasn't quite right. She had difficulty learning to walk and to speak, and the doctor said she would never be able to manage on her own. But she was the light of Da's eye. No one ever knew why, but it was such a blessing. He would never raise a hand to her, like he would … well …" She paused, collecting herself. Charles took a step towards her and gently laid his left hand on her shoulder. She fully understood the words behind the gesture: _I am still here_.

With a deep breath, she continued, telling him of that awful night that her Da had died, describing down to the minutest details the weather, the darkness, the horror at the thought of being married off against her will, and the shocking feel of the back of Da's hand across her face. She kept talking, about the sounds and the feelings and, perhaps worst of all, how she'd covered up a sinful crime without thinking twice, and how she'd hidden the shame and the fear of it all these years.

"I never expected anything to change in my life, but Mam had finally had enough. The thought of my being forced to leave made something inside of her snap. She had always depended on me, you see, to fetch him from the pub … to manage Becky's fits and outbursts … to do the shopping when she couldn't present her own face in town. If I left, everyone would know our secrets. Mam would have to go into town on her own and be seen, evidence of his cruelty all over her face. Becky would be with her, no longer hidden away on the farm, and everyone would know how she was." Elsie realized she was sobbing at this point. "I couldn't let Mam go to jail, to be hanged. Our community was small, and in many ways it held its secrets well, but no one would have excused her from having done what she did that night. It _had _to look like an accident. Before God, I made a vow to never speak of it again, and I made Mam promise as well. And then I left to go into service, because we needed the money." Withdrawing a handkerchief from her coat pocket, Elsie dried her face and blew her nose. Charles was standing there, hand still resting on her shoulder. He hadn't said a word.

"I've no idea what you must think of me now, truly, having covered up so heinous a crime all those years ago. But I've faced it these past few days, and I know now that I'll never be that scared young girl again. I've left that part of me behind, buried at last," she whispered. "But I understand if this is something that you cannot bear to be a part of … if it is a secret you cannot … live with."

Charles couldn't stop the tears streaming down his ruddy cheeks, but he had managed by some divine miracle to control his breathing. He squeezed her shoulder gently. "Oh, Elsie love," he started, not even realizing his use of her first name but fully intending the endearment that followed. "What an unbearable burden to have carried all of these years."

She placed her right hand over his left, feeling a tremor in his hand and realizing that he was weeping for her. She said nothing, knowing he had more to say.

"You took a chance with your freedom that day, but how could you not? You had absolutely no choice, not if you wanted to survive, to have an actual life for yourself – for your family." He paused, finally managing to quell the flow of tears. "How difficult it must have been for you to leave them on top of everything else," he continued. He was struggling to find the words to express his horror and sorrow at what she'd just laid before him, to find the words that would express his answer to her innermost question about just how far he would go to protect her. He found, in that instant, that he didn't care about the crime of it, the sin of it, at all. He only cared that she'd escaped, and had most likely saved the very lives of not only herself but her mother and sister as well.

"I am touched that you would share this with me and allow me to shoulder some of that weight." Other words he left unspoken, of times he wished she _had _shared her troubles, her worries and fears, with him … of the time she'd thought she might be gravely ill, or of times she missed her sister and had no one to talk to. _No, those words will never pass your lips again._

Elsie nodded, feeling lighter than she had before. Every time she lived through the horror she felt the burden lessen even more. Taking a chance she turned to face him once again. Charles took both her hands in his, gently caressing the backs of them with his thumbs.

Elsie marveled at the love she still felt emanating from this strong, steady man before her. She'd expected something … _less _… after releasing her story, but realized as soon as she looked into his eyes that his love had only grown. Remembering the song that had brought them both to this moment, she said, "I'm ever so glad you followed an unsuspecting Scottish lass to the lake, Mr. Carson. Otherwise, you'd never have heard my song."

He smiled, and whispered, "I'm ever so glad I did, Mrs. Hughes."

He leaned forward and brushed his lips softly against hers, hearing her gasp in surprise.

"Ever since that day, your song has been the music of my heart."

Elsie's own heart sang its reply. She was sure he heard it.

* * *

Several minutes – and gentle, wordless kisses – later, Charles and Elsie moved apart. Elsie finally remembered the mysterious appearance of the bench, and asked Charles about it.

"I bought it today ... for you," he told her.

"Charles, it's beautiful! But … why?" she asked.

"Well, to sit upon," he replied cheekily. "I know you come here often, and I thought it would be comfortable." _And it reminded me of you. _

"I'm sorry? It reminded you of me how, exactly?" she asked.

Charles blushed, furious with himself at speaking aloud without realizing it. _Not that it matters much, she can read your mind anyhow _…

"I'd rather not say," he said sheepishly.

Elsie laughed. "Well, now you _have _to tell me!"

He rolled his eyes, knowing there was no escape. "You'll think it's silly … you'll tease me for being a sentimental old fool."

"I won't. I promise," she replied patiently.

"Yes … well … um … the bench is sort of … brown, with some red …" he stammered, " … and it shines … "

"Yes? And what, precisely, has that to do with me?"

Charles sighed, embarrassed. "Like your hair, in the sunlight," he answered quietly, looking anywhere but at her face now. "The stone sides match the Abbey in color. The bench sort of … called to me. It's representative of the things that are important to me." Wishing he could completely disappear by this point, he forged ahead. "It visually represents you … inside the house, you see … to me. I couldn't get the idea of it out of my head."

Elsie shook her head, smiling at the gentle (_daft_) man before her. "Well, then … there's no arguing with that. Shall I try it out?"

Charles had forgotten she had not yet even sat on the bench, and quickly pulled something from underneath, setting it on the seat for her.

_A blanket … of course he brought a blanket. This is a day full of surprises, apparently._

They both sat, sides touching, neither the least bit uncomfortable with the new-found closeness.

"Charles," she began after a while, then stopped herself as she realized she'd used his first name, pulling it from her tender thoughts without thinking. _Damn, woman, you must control your feelings!_

"Yes … Elsie?" He smiled at the flush that crept up her neck. "I must admit, I like the way my name sounds when you say it, and the way yours feels on my tongue. Shall we attempt to use our given names from this point forward? Only when we're alone, of course." _Which, God willing, will be more often now_, he thought – not aloud, thankfully.

"Yes, I think I'd like that very much." She paused, then said, "Charles, Lady Mary was quite … generous … with both her words to me and her financial contributions to my trip. It was … surprising. I must say, I wasn't sure what to make of it at first. I don't mean to sound ungrateful, because I'm anything but, it's just … odd. Had you spoken with her about it?"

"Actually, Anna did," he replied, "but Lady Mary did ask me to fill in some details. I told her very basic information: that you had, indeed, just lost your only sister, and that you'd have to travel home to take care of arrangements. She asked why no one knew about Becky, and I gave her as few details as possible."

"Well then …" Elsie started, but was unable to finish her thoughts aloud: _perhaps she is kinder than I gave her credit for. Or perhaps she saw something in HIS __feelings and it was her caring for HIM __that made her want to care for me. _Elsie realized it didn't matter. She wouldn't begrudge Lady Mary's kindness regardless of where it had been directed. "The sentiment is truly a credit to her," was all she said.

"I won't attempt to say 'I told you so.'"

"Wise man!" she laughed.

Just then, a rumbling sound came from somewhere on the middle of the bench. "Is someone hungry?" Charles asked with a smile.

"It seems I am! We'd better get back to the house for dinner," she said, knowing she had no desire to leave that bench.

"Perhaps not," Charles answered mysteriously. He stood, and held out his hand to Elsie. Taking it, she gave him a questioning look, but said nothing.

"Come with me," said Charles. "I've something to show you."

"Surely not another surprise," she said. "I'm not sure how many more of those my old body can take this week."

"Less of the old, thank you very much," he said. "This one is not quite a surprise, however."

Placing her hand in the crook of his elbow, Charles began to lead Elsie around the lake. The whispers of their steps in the soft grass mixed in their ears with the lapping of tiny waves against the shore, but those were the only sounds to be heard. They walked slowly and wordlessly, taking in their surroundings: the beauty and coolness of the changing season, the yellows and greens of the surrounding vegetation. Elsie noted that, as usual, Charles effortlessly matched his stride to hers so that she wouldn't struggle to keep up. It kept their sides pressed together, and both realized as they were walking that being physically separated in the future was going to be immensely difficult.

Eventually they climbed a small hill and approached a copse of foliage … and, behind it, a cottage.

"I never knew this was here!" Elsie exclaimed, startling a bird that was nesting nearby.

Charles laughed as he felt the jump of her hand, knowing the little bird had startled her. "Yes, well, it is fairly well hidden. Shall we have a look?"

Elsie looked at him, crinkling her brow once again. "But … does no one live in it? It seems so well kept …" Her voice trailed off, and she was suddenly _very _suspicious of who, exactly, lived in this lovely home.

"Well, no one resides in it at present, but the current owner – _owners_, I think – are planning to rent it out for a time … as an investment, perhaps? At this exact moment, though, it is empty."

She looked at him, stunned. "But … I thought … what about Brouncker Road?"

"I never did say exactly _which _cottage I purchased, if you recall. Actually, you probably don't, because a great deal of things happened immediately following that conversation."

"But Charles, why this one?" Elsie was utterly confused. It didn't look big enough for a bed and breakfast like they'd discussed.

"Well … turn around," he said.

Elsie did as he asked, and gasped softly. "The lake …" She couldn't believe the beauty of the view surrounding her. The lake lay at the bottom of the little hill, veiled by the leaves of the small trees but … _yes, if I walk just over here a bit …_ it was completely visible from the little table at the side of the cottage. _From the patio, it's a most serene view indeed._ Elsie just looked at Charles in astonishment.

"Shall we?" he asked, motioning to the door.

"Oh, why not?" she laughed.

Charles opened the door, and moved aside for Elsie to enter. When she did, she had to reach out for something hold herself up once again … but this time, Charles was there to grasp her from behind, placing his hands on her waist and resting his chin on her head. "Surprise," he whispered.

As she'd entered the front door Elsie found herself facing the kitchen, where her eyes had fallen on a lovely table lit only by candlelight. There were two place settings (_two perfectly laid out place settings, of course_), wine, and several dishes covered with food. All she could do was shake her head as tears once again filled her eyes.

"How … ?" she asked yet again.

"Mrs. Patmore was most helpful," came Charles's reply. "Shall we?"

A hand at the small of her back, he led her to the table. He pulled out her chair and made sure she was comfortably seated. As he poured the wine, Elsie asked again, "Why this particular cottage, Charles? Besides the lake?"

He paused, and took his seat. "Well, you see, that's _my _confession, I suppose." He waited, seeing the puzzled look upon her face. "Other than the Abbey proper … this is the only real house I've ever known."

Elsie's eyes widened, but she said nothing. _Well, well … it seems that you're not the only one with secrets, Els. But first … we eat._

* * *

**Bonus track is "Seven Years" by Norah Jones. I think of it as "Becky's Song." :) When I started this little fanfic voyage, it stemmed from that song along with "One Flight Down" and "The Long Day Is Over." (They multiplied, evidently …) But "Strange Fire" is really more appropriate for where I've gotten. I also added the song Charles is humming - see below.**

***Refer to Chapter 9, and the quote Charles leaves in the book for Elsie, which speaks of Geneva.**

****The actual lullaby is called "All Through the Night," or, alternatively in my Unitarian Universalist church hymnal, "Sleep, My Child." It is of Welsh origin, indeed, and is just _lovely_.**


	11. Chapter Eleven: Iris

**A/N: Another long chapter. Once again, you owe the nice flow to silhouettedswallow – her comments and help are a gift!**

**All songs are on the Spotify playlist, just search "chelsiesouloftheabbey" and select "Music of the Heart." **

**Enjoy! Reviews and suggestions welcome. I've got a couple more surprises ahead, but we ARE winding down now. Thank you for all the love!**

* * *

_All I can taste is this moment,_

_and all I can breathe is your life_

_When sooner or later it's over,_

_I just don't want to miss you tonight._

_And I don't want the world to see me,_

'_Cause I don't think that they'd understand._

_When everything's made to be broken,_

_I just want you to know who I am._

**_~"Iris," by The Goo Goo Dolls_**

* * *

Dinner was delicious, and Elsie and Charles couldn't have been more at ease. As they ate they chatted about familiar things: how Mrs. Patmore was treating Daisy more like a daughter these days; how Lady Mary was taking more of a leadership role in the running of Downton because she would be losing Mr. Branson; how young Master George and Miss Sybbie so remarkably resembled the parents they'd never know, and what a blessing that was to those who remained; how Mr. Barrow was finally acting more like a respectable member of the house's leadership. They talked about the upcoming holidays and the Servants' Ball that would follow, each secretly looking forward to it more than ever, thinking _maybe, finally, this year we'll dance with ONE ANOTHER__._ It was just like most evenings that they spent together, and Elsie was grateful for it. She truly felt she'd be able to slip back into her "Housekeeper Elsie" persona …_ thanks to this wonderful, thoughtful man and his patience and love._

The idea of having no real responsibilities until the next day was strange, but it was hardly unwelcome. Both Elsie and Charles realized they needed this precious time together tonight, away from prying eyes and curious ears, and were trying to make the most of the few hours they had left. She was looking forward to seeing everyone for more than a brief greeting in the morning, but was eternally grateful for this afternoon and evening to spend as she chose. For his part, Charles enjoyed watching the Elsie he'd always loved come back bit by bit, knowing he was in some small way responsible for that. A meal of her favorite foods and wine had truly calmed her, and he imagined he could see her wounded heart healing before his very eyes. As he led their conversation to more familiar topics of life at the house, of the children (both "theirs" and those not their own), he could see the light returning to her eyes.

Each knew their relationship was now monumentally different, but they had not yet discussed it at all. Everything they had experienced today was both familiar and new: wine and conversation, quiet time reflecting on the family, soothing voices and carefree laughter – comfortably familiar; holding hands, brief glances filled with an undeniable attraction, the sharing of stories and the freedom to embrace and calm and love – fabulously new. They were still the same people, yet both had changed immeasurably. Each felt as if they'd taken that last crucial step to meet the other, finally coming toe-to-toe in a place where they could veer off in a _new _direction, fully and truly side-by-side in every way possible. Each knew that promises would be made, that things would be altered forever … and that it would not all happen tonight. Tonight was for laying the details of their pasts in front of each other, finally putting the past to rest so they could be on equal footing as they began their precious, new journey toward their future.

The meal done, Elsie rose and collected their plates. Charles started to object, and she silenced him with a stern look. "Not one word, Charles. After arranging this lovely dinner, this lovely _evening_, you will do no such thing. I'll only be a moment." She headed over to the sink, then paused. "There is running water, I presume?"

"Yes, but that's about it for the moment. The heating needs to be updated, and there is barely any furniture except for this kitchen set. I think there might be a small end table upstairs in one of the bedrooms …" he trailed off.

Elsie blushed faintly at the thought. _Upstairs … oh, yes … and how many bedrooms are there, I wonder? _Her color deepened, and she was grateful she had her back to Charles at that moment, managing once again (barely) to get her racing heart under control. "Tell me more about the house," she said after she'd collected herself. "It's so beautiful."

"Well, as you can see the kitchen needs little work. An electric refrigerator will be coming – I know, I know, you'd not have expected it from me, but I think it's a good investment. The plumbing has been updated and I think a hot water system can be easily installed before the winter truly sets in. The parlour is fairly large with a newly-laid hearth. Upstairs are (_deep breath …_) two bedrooms, one with a new en-suite, and there's a smaller, second bath tucked in at the end of the hallway. The cottage is much bigger than it looked from outside because an addition was put on years ago, and no one wanted to change the façade of the actual building. All in all, it's quite spacious. Oh, and there's a garden out back that's lovely in the summertime – roses, mostly, with an assortment of chrysanthemums and various greenery."

Elsie sighed happily as she finished drying their dishes and silverware, placing them on the counter as she did so. "It sounds wonderful, Charles. Perhaps you can show me around as soon as I've finished?"

"I'd be happy to, of course. Let me move these chairs into the parlour and get a fire going, and then I'll do just that."

Elsie nodded. _Even wood for the fire … the man had thought of everything, truly. And he KNOWS __chrysanthemums are my favorite flowers. Of course he does. _Shaking her head and smiling brightly, Elsie followed him into the parlour.

"Ah, I see it was not an understatement on your part – there's no furniture in this room whatsoever!" she laughed.

She watched as Charles knelt down in front of the fireplace, expertly arranging the kindling. He lit the match and the fire started blazing immediately. As the sun was setting the air was definitely becoming more chilled, but Elsie was warmed from the wine (_and the company_) and felt perfectly comfortable for the moment.

He turned to look at her, smiling. "No, nothing at all – not even curtains, which I'm happy to tell you I noticed the instant I set foot in the place."

"Ah, well then, I am very proud of you," replied Elsie cheekily. "Let's get you up so you can show me around, shall we?" Offering her hand to him, she helped him up gently from the ground. He groaned as his knees popped loudly, and she laughed. "Well, I'm glad I'm not the only one to hear _that _sound when I stand!"

Refusing to relinquish her hand (_not that she seems to mind …_) Charles indicated the parlour window. "The afternoon sun is down now, but when it is setting the view from that window is truly breathtaking." She nodded, heading over to peer out of the glass. She was able to see what he described in her mind's eye: oranges, reds, and golds setting the fields and leaves ablaze. She sighed imperceptibly, marveling at how he was pointing out the aspects of the property that he knew would sing to her heart.

Moving away from the window, Charles led her to the stairs. "Nice and sturdy, these, very well built." He tossed out various comments as they climbed up to the second-floor hallway. "This will need paint, I think perhaps something light … The electric is good here, but a new sconce on that wall, I think … The door on the bath should be replaced, it's a bit tight … Good ceilings, though, and those are freshly painted …" He stopped as they reached the top of the stairs. _And these are the bedrooms …_

Elsie smirked, the desire to tease him (as she was so used to doing) just too tempting. "Yes, Charles? I presume these are the bedrooms?" _You're not letting him off easy, are you Els? _

"Ahem … yes. This first is the smaller of the two." He opened the door, relinquishing her hand. "After you."

Elsie moved into the room, appreciating out loud the delicate blue of the walls alongside the bright white trim. There was a small window, and she loved the spacious, built-in wardrobe in the corner. And there was exactly one bedside table, looking so very all alone, its presence rather sad and … _disappointing?_ _And what were you expecting__, lass … a bed to frolic upon? Get control of yourself! The man has said the home is practically bare._ The room smelled musty and Elsie moved over to the window, opening it a bit. It slid open easily, she noted happily, and a gentle breeze came in, cleansing the air _and_ her burning thoughts with its cool freshness.

Charles had remained in the doorway, watching her, intrigued by what she was noticing. _A woman's perspective_, he thought. _Colors, storage, layout, fresh air. _It was a striking balance to the items he'd just been pointing out; his focus was on things that told of structure and stability, repairs that were needed. But she was looking much farther ahead, to the comforts that the space provided. _It's a perfect balance, Charlie old boy … a perfect match._ He found himself staring at her as she turned to speak to him.

Seeing the intense look in his eyes made Elsie falter for a moment. _It is so strange to see his love simply shining in his eyes_. _How did I not truly notice it before?_ "This is a lovely room, Charles. May I see the rest?"

He raised the corner of his mouth in a half-smile and replied quietly, "Apparently I need to remind you that this is not just _my _house. You don't have to ask to see anything."

"Yes, well … I'm not quite used to that bit yet. I will need some time, I admit." She saw his face fall slightly, and quickly added, "I'm not upset, or offended, or any of those other foolish things that I know you imagine I might be. I just … need time. I've had rather a lot to deal with these past few days … "

His face gave a tender, caring smile. "Of course," he said quietly. "Let's finish our little tour, and head down for some more wine, shall we?"

Elsie nodded, grateful for his ever-present understanding of her feelings. She closed the window tightly and they moved out into the hall. He indicated the small bath, and she peeked in. _It needs curtains as well, and a small carpet by the tub … maybe a shelf … _She caught herself, shaking her head slightly at how far ahead of things she was letting herself get. Charles took her hand again, and they made their way to the second bedroom.

Opening the door, he stood aside once more. Elsie passed through the doorway and stopped suddenly, biting her lip to keep from gasping aloud. _A bed. There's a BED __in here. Oh, my heavens …_ Images flipped through her mind in rapid succession, images of her innermost thoughts and dreams: those of gentle kisses to be given and tender moments to be had; images of how they could lay together in front of a dying fire or read aloud to one another on a rainy afternoon; pictures of nights where they might be awakened by frightful storms, but neither would be afraid because they did not lay alone anymore; rays of soft sunlight that would peep through the curtains, catching on small dust particles that would float in on the breath of another new morning; the caring, sweet words that he might whisper in her ear, and the thought of her returning her own in the soft voice she was coming to understand he loved to hear, rolling the "r" in his name just so … _images of LOVE __…_

"Elsie?" he questioned softly from the hallway. Then, eyes falling onto the bed, Charles faltered. "Oh … I didn't realize that had been left behind. Well … it appears I wasn't fully informed ... " He hazarded a glance at her, and saw that she was struggling to master her emotions once more.

Elsie moved away from him in a flash, then hazarded a glance back. _I need a moment_, she thought, trying to send him the words with her eyes. She saw that he understood, and she allowed herself a few deep, quiet breaths. Moving about the room – giving that bed a _very _wide berth – Elsie headed for the window, thinking to open it and let in some fresh, cool air … _for a variety of reasons_. It faced in a different direction from the last, and she'd lost her sense of perspective as they'd been moving about the house. When she was close enough to look out she froze, awestruck.

The window afforded a perfect view of the water, which was now glistening in the light of the rising moon. Glancing back at the bed, Elsie saw that it was positioned so that its … _inhabitants? ..._ would wake to the view of the lake – her lake – every day. Elsie was tired of feeling speechless, but no words could possibly describe how she felt at that very moment. She looked at Charles and instantly read all of the thoughts in his deep, dark eyes – she realized that he'd have known about this oh so wonderful view, would have understood what it would mean to her. As the color deepened on his cheeks, she also realized that some other thoughts he'd been having just now so closely mimicked her own. _We shall live here one day. Heavens ... this will be OUR bed, OUR view. This is how the future will look for us, at long last. _She moved around the bed once again, and took his large hands in her smaller ones, raising his fingers to her lips and brushing them with the softest of kisses.

"Elsie … " he warned. _We cannot do this … not here._ His eyes met hers, pleading with her to stop. He was painfully aware that was not _truly _what he wanted, but he knew that she would understand. The deeper rumbling in his voice would have told her in an instant.

"Thank you for this, Charles," was all she said. "It's so very lovely, and it will make such a wonderful home … when we're ready."

_I'm ready NOW__, _he thought, knowing he could never speak the words aloud. They'd talked of an investment for their retirement, and he knew she'd not take money from him willingly, knew they'd need to work a little while longer and rent out this cottage so that they'd have some joint funds with which to begin their new life together. They would need to be married, of course, and that was no easy venture either. He didn't think that they'd lose their jobs, but it was a possibility. Even in this age of swiftly-moving change, butlers and housekeepers were traditionally married to no one – particularly not each other. No … regardless of how perfect this moment was, feeling her soft lips across his knuckles and the warmth of her breath on his skin, the sound of her voice slipping deeper into his soul … no, the rest would have to wait.

"Yes, I imagine it will," was all he said. Taking her hands in his, he turned them both toward the door, closing it gently before they made their way downstairs.

* * *

When they returned to the parlour, the fire was going nicely. Charles recalled having seen a lantern in the kitchen and went to retrieve it. He brought it back to the parlour, lit it, and handed it to Elsie. Placing it on the floor, she took her seat as he fetched the wine from the kitchen. He poured them each a glass, set the remainder down next to the lantern, and they each raised their glasses in a silent toast. Knowing there was something on his mind, a story he'd promised to tell, she decided not to press. Elsie knew that Charles was a man that needed time to collect his thoughts, to put order to the things he wished to say, particularly when they weighed heavily upon him. The silence didn't bother her at all; in fact, it was rather common for them to each be lost in their own musings as they sat together in the evening.

Charles eventually took a deep breath and placed his empty glass on the floor by his chair. Turning, he looked Elsie directly in the eyes. "I have to tell you some things about this cottage … about myself … and I'm not quite sure how to begin."

"Well, at the risk of stating the obvious, it may be best to start at the _very _beginning." She smiled at him, reaching for his hand. He moved his chair closer to hers and took her hand, holding it tightly in his own, resting both on his knee. _I love this_, he thought. _This comfort, this closeness … how could I have lived without it for so long?_

"Yes, well, perhaps you are right. You see, I'm not sure exactly what I've told you of my childhood."

"Not much," replied Elsie. "I know you adored your father, and I gather your mother died when you were young because you've never mentioned her that I recall." She paused, thinking. "I know you've spent most of your adult life at Downton, and that you had that year or so with Grigg."

She tried to keep her voice very steady at that last bit and was certain she succeeded. If she'd wavered, he hadn't seemed to notice; anyhow, he was already lost in his own thoughts. _Good._ Elsie found it curious that when she'd given the photograph of Alice to him in the little, silver frame she hadn't really been jealous of the woman, only infuriated at her for treating Charles so reprehensibly. As she and Charles had become closer, that animosity only grew. Elsie knew deep down in her heart that she had tried to mend the relationship between Charles and Grigg so that Charles would put the past behind him at last and not just because of the kindness in her heart. Tonight, Elsie noticed a shift in her feelings once again … she pitied Alice now, wondering if the woman ever truly realized what she'd thrown away. _How could anyone ever leave this wonderful man? How could any woman in her right mind walk away from him for another? _Elsie acknowledged that she was, quite selfishly, _thankful _that Alice had left him – not thankful for the hurt Charles had suffered, but thankful that events had placed him in her own path years later.

"Yes, that's about what I remembered you knew," Charles said. "This will take a while." He reached for her glass, topping it off and refilling his own before beginning his story.

"When I was born, my father was working as a groomsman. He'd grown up on a horse farm and had a gift with horses. He was a gentle, loving man and they knew somehow to trust him. But work was hard to come by in those years. I remember from a very young age that we were sometimes hungry, and that our home was often cold because there was no wood for the fire. We'd sleep all together, in order to stay warm but also because our cottage only had one room. But we had love, and I have no memories of my parents fighting, not once.

"When I was four years old, my father left to seek better work. When he returned, he told us to gather our things because he had been offered a fantastic opportunity: he was to be the new stable master at Downton Abbey, in Yorkshire. I now realize that he was quite young to have been offered such a position, but most of what I remember from that night was the excitement in Mama's voice, her tears as she hugged him tightly, and how we celebrated with a roaring fire in the fireplace, telling tall stories of all that we hoped our new life would bring. Pa told me about the rolling hills and the babbling brook on the grounds of the estate, of the magnificent steeds in the stables and of the wonderful times we'd have together as he taught me the tricks of his trade. I was overjoyed and remember asking if we'd have a nice home of our own. 'Oh yes,' he said to me, as he crouched down on the ground to look me in the eyes. 'A cottage with a parlour, and a true kitchen for Mama. Perhaps you can plant some flowers with her?' I thought I'd died and gone to heaven.

"We packed our belongings the next day – they didn't amount to much – and set off for Downton, moving into the original cottage in which you and I are now sitting. I slept in this very room, actually. Two days after arriving, I celebrated my fifth birthday." He paused and took a shaky breath. "A month after that, Mama died suddenly. I was told years later that she'd been with child." Charles paused here, and Elsie noticed the tears that had gathered in the corners of his eyes. _Some sixty years later and he still weeps for the loss._ She shook her head, marveling once again at the capacity for love in this big bear of a man whose hand was clinging to hers. "She is buried in the churchyard in town," he said. "I visit every year, twice – once on her birthday and again on the evening of my own." He looked curiously at Elsie. "I always thought you might notice that I took a half-day off on my birthday and disappeared, but you never asked the reason."

"I noticed. I thought if you wanted to say, you would," she said quietly. He squeezed her hand in reply and proceeded with his story.

"So then, needless to say, things became more difficult. Pa was working long days as he became accustomed to the job. One day, he came to me and told me that the old Earl had died, and that he was to attend the funeral service. I was not able to go with him; instead, I was to stay at the barn until he returned and not to touch the horses or go into any of their stalls. He set me up with a chair and a toy with which to occupy myself, and he left. I remember watching the horses intently, feeling them look at me with those big, brown eyes. I figured they, too, were sad at the events that were playing out before us all. It rained that day, and I have never forgotten the smell of the horses in the damp air, or the wind through my hair as I sat and watched them, entranced. When Pa returned, I told him I wanted to become a groomsman. He ruffled my hair and laughed, and told me he'd speak to the new Earl if he ever had the chance."

Elsie took a sip of her wine, lost in thought. She was thinking of how wonderful a childhood Charles had enjoyed, despite his mother's death. He sounded as though he'd been happy, spending so much time alongside a father he clearly adored. It was a stark contrast to hell she'd grown up with. _To have had such a simple, beautiful life …_ _A mother who knew no fear for her safety … a father's unconditional love … _She was overjoyed for him. The sound of his voice brought her out of her reverie.

"As it so happened, the new Earl and his bride arrived the following week. Pa was nervous about meeting them, as the young Earl had a reputation that preceded him – one of not being terribly kind. Pa had decided he would enroll me in the village school in the fall, and after two years of schooling he would ask if the estate would take me on as a stable boy, mucking out stalls and such. I'd be eight then, quite young for a job really, but with my father to watch over me he thought it would be acceptable. I was ecstatic at the thought.

"Not long after that, I was out in the field one day and noticed a woman approaching the stable area. I stood and – very proudly – issued a deep bow. I remember her laugh and how the light melody of it reminded me so much of my mother. She said to me, 'You must be little Charlie Carson. I'm here to see your father.'" Charles smiled at the memory. "I could tell from her fancy riding outfit that she was someone _important_, so I stood up tall and led her to where Pa was working. I've no recollection of what they discussed, other than nattering on about horses, but I remember that was the first time Pa seemed truly happy since Mama had died."

"Lady Violet, of course," Elsie said with a nod. "I didn't realize you'd known her almost your whole life."

Charles nodded, a smile and a faraway look on his face. "Yes, and hers - she was quite young at the time. I have often thought back on that first visit, wondering what brought her to the stables that day. She loved the horses, of course, and loved to ride. Very fast, if I recall correctly," he laughed, "but that first day I am positive she didn't end up riding at all. They just talked all afternoon. I think, looking back, that she needed … a friend." He paused again. "And so did he. I know now that she had only just married the young Earl when his father had died, and that they had come immediately to Downton. Her husband was often away, leaving her behind of course."

Charles continued, talking of Lady Violet's frequent visits to the stables that summer, of how she would sometimes bring him biscuits she'd taken from the kitchens, or perhaps a small toy or book of some sort. When he started schooling in the fall, she'd brought him some ink and a pen, some paper, and a bag to put his things in. He'd cherished those items, and Elsie noticed his face light up as he told her about them.

"A year and a half later – just after Christmas – my Pa fell ill. I remember the doctor coming to visit us here, Pa downstairs on a cot because he hadn't the energy to go up the stairs anymore. After two months, he could no longer work. I was worried that we'd have to leave, as the cottage was tied to the job, but Pa reassured me that we would be able to stay. But then, a week later, he died."

"Oh, Charles," Elsie said, "I'm so sorry." _And so guilty, thinking he was telling me of an idyllic story of a perfect childhood. We all have chapters of our lives hidden, it seems … at least they don't have to hide anymore._

"Yes, well … I was, of course, terrified at that point of what would happen. To my knowledge, I had no other family. No one had ever visited, and Mama and Pa never spoke of other relations. I knew my grandparents had died before I was even born, and Mama had only spoken of them once or twice anyhow that I remembered. But some men had come for Pa's body, and Lady Violet accompanied them to the cottage. I ran upstairs, but she followed me into the bedroom. She sat next to me on the edge of the bed and took my hand in hers. 'Charlie,' she said to me, 'you've a cousin that is coming to stay with you. He'll take over your Pa's work and will live here in the cottage with you. You're to mind him as you did your Pa.' I remember crying, and her taking me in her arms and consoling me."

Elsie was stunned. She had never felt much love for the Dowager and it seemed as though Charles were speaking of someone completely different – certainly not the dour-faced, sharp-tongued woman that Elsie had come to know? _How foolish of me to forget that Lady Violet, like the rest of us, was young once, too._

"When Pa's cousin arrived – David was his name – my life instantly became more difficult. It fell to me to cook and clean, because he refused to do so. I was no cook, I assure you, but I'd helped my Pa to prepare our evening meal most nights. I remember saying I couldn't possibly take control of the cooking. 'That's not a _man's _work,' he'd say, 'so it's to you as you're clearly no man.' I learned quickly that if things weren't done properly, it would mean a switch to my backside. Neither of my parents had ever raised a hand to me my entire life … I was terrified of him."

Elsie nodded her understanding and listened sadly as he continued. "School went on, and I earned high marks and learned quickly. I'd often bring my books home to study. If David had one good quality it was his appreciation for education, and as long as the house was clean and dinner waiting for him when he arrived, he would leave me alone.

"One day, Lady Violet stumbled upon me in the field, and she struck up a conversation. She asked how things were going at the stables, and I told her as much as I felt I was able. I knew she could tell I was terrified of David, but she said nothing." Charles laughed then, taking Elsie by surprise. "Two days later, I was getting a telling off from David because the washing hadn't been done. The instant he'd struck me with the switch, there was a knock at our door. Guess who it was?" he said.

Elsie's jaw dropped. "No! She came to your house?"

"She did! It was the best day I ever spent in David's presence. She informed him that my schooling was to take precedence over being his servant, and that a girl from the Abbey would be arriving once daily to assist in anything that needed to be done. She also informed him that, in exchange, I was to visit her every afternoon – something that confused me greatly at the time, for I thought I was in trouble of some sort. David acquiesced, knowing full well that it could mean his job if he refused – which of course he'd never do, because now a professional maid who could cook properly would be arriving regularly. The next day, the maid arrived at two o'clock sharp, and I ran to the house."

"What on earth did she want with you?" Elsie asked, still astonished at the bizarre nature of his story.

Charles looked at her softly. "She was, I believe … lonely," he said.

Elsie nodded, thinking of how she'd have felt had she been in the Dowager's position. "I'm sure she must have been. A young wife, on a huge estate, making social calls to women she probably didn't even like, yet having no family with her at all." She knew something of the Dowager's life, knew at least she had no siblings or other family in Yorkshire. _Much like Lady Cora_, she thought, _but at least SHE __had Lady Rosamund. No, it must have been a lonely existence, indeed …_

"From that day forward, Lady Violet acted as a sort of governess. She assessed where I was at with my schooling, and built upon it. She'd loan me a book from her library, and I'd read it and we'd discuss the material when I'd finished with it. She was particular to a fault about penmanship, and I owe my graceful script to her strict tutelage. She would ask about the horses, and one day I asked why she no longer came to ride. I knew the Earl was often away, and told her (very unabashedly, which I cringe to think about now) that I guessed she must be so lonely in the big house." Another pause, another soft look of fondness on his face. "I remember her looking at me, shocked that I would say such a thing. But her only reply was to say that the horses no longer held as much interest for her as they once had."

Suddenly, the light dawned in Elsie's eyes. "Oh, my heavens … she was in love with him," she said quietly. "Oh, how terribly sad for her."

Charles nodded. "Yes, I believe that she was, although she's never admitted it to me. She certainly took a shine to his only son," he said with a smile, "a fact for which I am eternally grateful."

"Yes," replied Elsie, "I imagine you are."

The wine was long gone and the fire was starting to die down. "One day, she asked me if I was still interested in being a groomsman. I loved the horses, but truly couldn't imagine working for David. She told me I could be an errand boy for the house, and that as I got older there would be a job for me as a hall boy and, eventually, even a footman. 'You could even be butler one day, Charlie,' she said. I was astonished … and overjoyed. I was quite good with maths and had a love of history even then, and Lady Violet began to hone my instruction, focusing in on the history of the estate and of Yorkshire, teaching me about the other families of importance, even giving me a copy of _Burke's Peerage_. I remember David laughing in my face many an evening when I'd return with such a book, but I paid him no heed. I knew I was heading for a good job, for the security that my Pa never had until we arrived here. I felt as if I owed Downton – and the Countess – my life. And, despite one brief foray into insanity," he chuckled sadly, "that's just what I gave them."

Charles continued his story, telling of the day he'd been turned away at the door because Lady Violet was ill. He learned from the butler that she was expecting her first child, and her confinement had begun. Obviously, this meant an abrupt end to the lessons and days spent in the garden. It was a painful loss, but time passed quickly. Master Robert had arrived, and Charles found himself at the house more often, having been summoned by the kind butler to run errands or do various odd jobs.

"Then, one day, while on my way home, I came across her sitting in the garden. She was crying," he said. "I didn't know what to do, but she noticed my presence and invited me to sit. She dried her eyes, and asked how things were going for me. I told her they were fine, that I was very happy and grateful to be at the house, and that I was dedicated to working as hard as possible to make her proud." He looked at Elsie, who simply squeezed his hand and smiled at him, encouraging him to continue.

"She paused, and then said to me words that I'll never forget as long as I live. 'Charlie, work as hard as you are able, but never forget from where you came. Never forget that you were _loved_. It may seem as though your life is all about your work, but the _true _business of life is the acquisition of memories. Hold steadfast and true to your ideals, but always hold onto the memories that you are creating. One day, they'll be all you have left.'"

Elsie was completely blown away by this story. If she didn't know and intimately trust the man seated beside her, she'd have thought the entire story some ridiculous figment of her imagination. _Or his .._. _But you DO __know him, lass. Ah, this explains so very much about him: his ties to the family, the unwavering support of the Dowager, even to her often ungrateful son, and her eldest granddaughter who is like her in so very many ways._

"And then … ?" she asked.

Charles took his hand from her at that time, sitting back and staring at the dying fire. "A few years later, I left for the stage," he said. "I abandoned them all." He looked at Elsie, his eyes misty and begging her to understand. "I was so … jealous, I suppose … of her children, of the attention they received. I was tired of just being the hall boy. It became known that the Countess had favored me as a child, you see, and I was ridiculed by other members of staff. The butler tried to quash the taunting, but he was aging and losing his hearing so it continued behind his back. I had no friends, no one in whom I could confide. David had been dismissed a year before, so there was no cottage home to which I could return even if I'd wanted to. Then I met Grigg one evening at a pub, and we hit it off. I was in my cups that night, unhappy with my so-called sad lot in life, and he invited me to join him on the road. He'd noticed me juggling on a dare the last time I'd been at the pub, and thought he could use me in his act. So, like a thief in the night, I packed my things and left. I've never been so ashamed of myself," he confessed quietly.

Elsie took his hand back, caressing it softly. "But you came back."

"Yes," he said. "I came back. I had no business coming back to this house ever again, and they owed me nothing. I arrived at the servants' entrance, and the butler agreed to see me in the pantry. I asked for a reference, knowing full well I didn't deserve one but knowing that I needed to get work. 'Well, Charlie, this might be your lucky day,' he told me. 'We happen to be in need of a second footman.' I was shocked. I had no idea what to say; I wasn't really even counting on the reference! I remember him smiling at me gently, telling me that Her Ladyship would be happy to have me return if it was truly what I wanted. It was, and I never looked back." He stopped for a bit, staring off into space. "You see, I truly do owe her my life. She told me, many years later, that she'd visited Pa often during his illness, when I was in school and he was alone at the house. She'd promised him that she would always watch out for me. No one but the butler and housekeeper knew who I was when I returned, for the staff had changed so much during that year. I think she disliked many of them and let them go, to be honest. But to my knowledge, she never told another soul who I was."

"Surely the Earl remembered seeing you?" Elsie asked.

"No, not at all. He had never been around then, not really, and when he was he paid no attention to hall boys. No, I was lucky in that regard. It was a fresh start, and I'd learned my lesson. This was a good, safe place for me, and I cherished it from that day forward."

Elsie nodded. "Charles," she asked, "why tell me all this now? Why tonight?"

He looked at her, astonished. "Why?" He took her other hand in his, squeezing them softly and pressing them to his lips. "Elsie, if we are to be truly side by side in everything as I hope we one day will be, then you needed to know my story. No secrets. You needed to know where I come from, that I am not from the respectable background that one would expect of a butler."

He smiled at her then, and continued in a softer voice. "I realize you've not always understood my ties to the family, never accepted that they were in many ways the only family I had for most of my life." He closed his eyes, gathering his thoughts. "I love you, Elsie Hughes, and I now realize I have for a very long time. But I had difficulty reconciling that with my dedication to this family, for the immense debt that I have always felt I owed them. I felt that you deserved some sort of … explanation for why I never told you, for why I never asked you to leave Downton. I couldn't ask you to give up a life you'd built for yourself – a respectable career in a powerful house – when I would never ask the same of myself."

"I'd have understood, you know," she said softly, her bottom lip between her teeth. "I'd have accepted you in any way that was possible, married or not."

"I know that now," he replied sadly, "but I was never free to tell my story then. I would never have wanted to mislead you, letting you think I came from a respectable family or a formal education. You'd have asked about my past one day, surely, and I couldn't have answered you honestly."

Elsie was perplexed, a furrow in her brow. "But why now? Why could you finally tell me now?"

Charles smiled. "Because I had her blessing."

"Well, then," Elsie said. _There's really no response to that, is there? _"Perhaps the next time I see her, I'll give her my thanks." She smiled.

Charles laughed. "I am sure that if you're ever alone in a room with her – which will never happen, mind you – the sentiment would be most welcome."

"Thank you for trusting me with this," Elsie said to him. "And while it pains me greatly to have to say this aloud, we both know that we must get back to the house."

Charles sighed. "Yes, I know … " He looked at her, a spark in his eyes reflecting the ones in the hearth's glowing embers. "Even if I do not wish it to be so."

Elsie sighed deeply. "Nor do I, my love. But you're not _truly _ready to retire tomorrow, are you?" _Els, you know he's not … don't push him, not now, not after hearing all of this. _ "I'm not sure I am," she said.

Despite how well-accustomed they were to communicating with only a glance Charles misjudged the look in her eyes this time, mistaking her hesitancy for full honesty. "Nor I," he lied. "Not really … not _yet_."

And to that, there was truly no more to be said. Elsie rose from her chair, taking the lantern as Charles banked the fire. She picked up the decanter and left the wine glasses for Charles, who took them and followed her into the kitchen. They silently washed and dried them, then packed everything into the basket.

Elsie took one last look around the kitchen before leaving. When she was ready, Charles picked up the basket and held the door open for her. She passed through and waited for him to lock up. Once he did, they headed back to the lake to retrieve the blanket. Elsie carried the lantern in her right hand, her left secured tightly in the crook of Charles's elbow. They walked wordlessly, placing their steps carefully in the pale light given off by lantern and moon.

When they came to the shore, Elsie stopped suddenly and gasped. The moonlight reflected off the lake was stunning. She became overwhelmed and turned toward Charles. With tears threatening to spill over her delicate lashes, she said simply, "I love you, you know. Thank you so much for this … well, for _everything_. This has been the most wonderful night of my life. I will never be able to repay you for this as long as I live."

Charles placed the basket on the ground and took her in his arms. Raising her chin with his finger, he whispered, "We'll see about that, Mrs. Hughes. We'll see about that." He then lowered his head to hers, tilting it slightly to the side, and kissed her softly.

Elsie felt as though the touch of his lips lit her entire body on fire, and thinking back on the moment later she'd wonder how on earth she managed to keep hold of the lantern. Once again, she had the sensation of being somehow burned up and being completely reborn. As they'd eaten dinner, she'd thought she could finally return to Elsie Hughes, Housekeeper, the woman she'd been at Downton for all these years. She realized now that the woman she was trying so hard to return to no longer existed. The Elsie Hughes that now stood wrapped in this lovely man's arms, lips eagerly receiving his love and returning her own, was a _new _woman, looking ahead to a most promising life indeed.

After a few minutes they parted, gasping for air. With a tender smile (and no small effort on her part), Elsie pulled away from him. Charles retrieved the basket and the blanket and, together, they headed back to the house.


	12. Chapter Twelve: A Thousand Years

**A/N: Thanks again to silhouettedswallow, who gave several suggestions to make this more succinct (I took MOST of them). **

**Thanks again to ALL readers, reviewers and rebloggers - your loving words make my day!**

**Spotify - Username: ChelsieSouloftheAbbey, Playlist: Music of the Heart - you can look 'em up, they do add to the story. **

**xx**

**CSotA**

* * *

_All along I believed I would find you._

_Time has brought your heart to me;_

_I have loved you for a thousand years._

_I'll love you for a thousand more._

_One step closer …_

**_~"A Thousand Years," Christina Perri_**

* * *

Elsie and Charles arrived back at the house just as the lantern ran out of oil. Opening the door, Elsie headed in and took the basket from Charles so that he could lock up. They returned the basket to the kitchen, thankful (but somewhat surprised) that Mrs. Patmore had been thoughtful enough to head up early. Although the servants' hall was empty they headed to the butler's pantry by mutual, silent agreement. Charles left the door slightly ajar at first, but thought the better of it. He wasn't completely sure that all the staff had gone to bed, so he returned and shut the door, turning the lock with a soft click.

"So," Elsie said. "Here we are. Back to normal tomorrow, and I must say I am looking forward to that."

"Yes," he agreed. "I think it will be good for you to return to some semblance of normalcy after the days you've just experienced." He paused and caught her eyes in an almost shy glance. "I'm not sure if things will feel _entirely_ normal now, though … at least, not from where I'm standing."

She chuckled and acknowledged this with a nod. "Yes, well … It will be a bit different sitting next to you at the table now, won't it? Knowing what we know of each other's … feelings." _Desires. "_Not being able to show them as openly as we did this evening will be … difficult." _Impossible … heartbreaking … very, very tempting … but NOT allowed__. Sigh._

"We shall have to be particularly careful around Anna and Mr. Bates, I imagine," said Charles.

"Yes … and evidently around Mrs. Patmore as well. I can only imagine what she has in store for me tomorrow. It'll be an inquisition for sure!" Elsie laughed, shaking her head.

"Tell her what you will," Charles replied, a daring look in his eye. "She might even believe half of it. But really, I only asked her to provide a basket of food so that I could surprise you with a dinner away from prying eyes after your long journey. I said nothing else, not that she hasn't guessed anyway. The woman has known me forever, and she is rather perceptive, I'll admit."

"Oh, I know exactly how perceptive she is," Elsie sighed. "She's been telling me for years about how much you care for me … always hinting, pushing, insinuating. I never really believed it, though."

Charles took Elsie gently in his arms, and she laid her head on his chest. "Well," he said softly, "I hope you do now."

Elsie sighed deeply, relishing the sensation of being in his arms again. She could smell his aftershave, a hint of his soap, and feel the warmth of his arms as they encircled her. She snuggled in a bit more deeply as he spoke. _Oh, that voice … that rumbling, lovely voice that I can FEEL __when he holds me. _

"Yes, my love … I do now."

Breaking apart at last, they made their way upstairs. As they reached the doorway that would divide them for the rest of the night, Charles placed a chaste kiss to Elsie's forehead, just as he'd done that first night he'd confessed his love to her. _God, that seems like YEARS __and not days ago, _Elsie thought. Looking quickly down the corridor, she snatched his hand as he was turning away, placing the loveliest of kisses to his palm.

"Good night, Mr. Carson," she said softly.

He smiled. "Sleep well, Mrs. Hughes. I'll see you at breakfast."

Elsie took the key from the hook, then slowly closed the door and locked it. With a smile and a song in her heart, she headed to bed.

* * *

The next morning dawned bright and sunny, for which Elsie was grateful. Despite her love of all things water, the rain would make her think of Argyll, and she could do without those thoughts just yet. She dressed quickly, but took a few more minutes with her hair than she normally would. After securing the last pin she reached for her chatelaine out of habit, only to remember that Anna still had it. _Oh, Anna … you must thank her most sincerely for the time she gave you last night. That lovely, lovely night … sigh. Oh, Els, you're in deep now, aren't you? _Elsie smiled to herself and headed to the door, only to head back and add a dab of lavender oil to her neck. _Why not? He did seem to enjoy that._

As she headed to the servants' hall, Elsie met Charles in the hallway and found herself breathless and trembling. _Oh, this is NOT __good, Elsie … not good at all. _But his look steadied her, as did the hand he gently placed on her elbow.

"Good morning," he said quietly, smiling brilliantly at her. "Are you ready, Mrs. Hughes?"

"Yes, I believe so." She took a deep breath, sending him a look of gratitude. Steady at last, she nodded.

Charles tilted his head and raised an eyebrow at her, having caught a trace of the lavender scent that he so loved. He held his hand out, motioning for her to proceed. As they entered the servants' hall everyone rose from their seats. Elsie heard a hearty "Good morning, Mrs. Hughes – welcome back!" followed by a respectful, "Good morning, Mr. Carson." She thanked them all as Charles motioned for them to be seated. _Okay … that part was painless_, she thought. _Everything is perfectly fine … no one suspects a thing really. We can do this. _

Taking her seat, Elsie started to prepare two cups of tea as she had done every morning for goodness knows how many breakfasts. _How domestic, this, _she thought wryly. She then wished desperately that the thought had not run through her head because it led to a million _other _thoughts that most definitely should not run through one's head at the breakfast table. Sneaking a sideways glance at Charles, she noticed he was trying very hard not to look at her. She set his tea in front of him, then turned and caught Anna's eye. They shared a smile and a nod; Elsie noticed a mischievous gleam in Anna's eye. _Uh-oh. _

The rest of breakfast was a trial in patience. Elsie was famished and noticed she was eating faster than usual in her efforts to not speak to Charles. Although it seemed like a sensible plan at first, Elsie then found herself finished with her meal long before anyone else. She tried to occupy herself with chatting with the others, catching up on little nothings here and there. She didn't want to be rude by leaving the table barely ten minutes after having sat down, but she needed to be anywhere but at Charles's side, knowing their knees were only centimeters apart. She instinctively realized that, if they touched accidentally, it would do her in completely. Turning her body (particularly her knees) to her right, she continued the conversation she'd been having with Mr. Barrow.

Charles, on the other hand, could barely eat at all. He was concentrating most of his efforts on not touching her knee with his, not catching any glances of hers, not blushing, not sloshing his tea as he tried to calmly lift his cup. _Oh, this is __not_ _as easy as I'd imagined. Why can it not be as easy as last night? We were even alone then, no audience to keep our thoughts focused, and yet we were so at ease. THIS __is a bloody hell! _He saw her turn away from him slightly, in conversation with Mr. Barrow, and was very grateful for the small reprieve. He had no idea how he was going to make it through more meals like this.

Thankfully, bells began to ring and most of the servants headed off to their various tasks. Elsie caught Anna's eye on her way up to dress Lady Mary. "Ten o'clock?" she enquired.

"Yes, that should do nicely, Mrs. Hughes." Anna reached to her belt and unclipped the chatelaine, handing it back to Elsie. "Here you are. I've left the ledger on your desk so that you can check through what I've done. I'll see you soon then."

"Thank you, Anna." Elsie watched the young woman as she headed off, a feeling of pride surging in her as she reflected on how well Anna had transitioned into the housekeeper's job, if only for a few days. She got up from the table and stopped by the kitchen, asking Daisy to bring a pot of tea and two cups in about an hour.

"Certainly, Mrs. Hughes, no problem."

"Well, well, aren't you a sight for sore eyes?" Mrs. Patmore's voice was much quieter than usual, which immediately made Elsie very, very suspicious.

"Thank you, Mrs. Patmore, although I'm sure Anna did a wonderful job while I was gone," she said cautiously. Thankfully Daisy had moved on to some new task or other, and the two women were relatively alone.

"Oh, she did, I am sure, but she's not the one I was worried about now, is she?" came the cheeky reply. "And how, may I ask, was your evening?" she whispered gleefully.

Elsie shook her head and just smiled. "It was … very relaxing," she said. "Thank you so much for the meal. It was nice to have some time to ease back into things. I truly appreciate it."

"And?" pushed the cook. "It was 'relaxing'? That's … it?"

Elsie shook her head, and looked innocently and wide-eyed at her friend, deciding to fight fire with fire. "What, pray tell, are you actually trying to ask me, Mrs. Patmore? Hmmm?"

"Oh … well … I only wondered if a certain … someone … well, you know … perhaps _confessed _certain …" she faltered. "Oh, never mind! You know damn well what I'm asking you, Elsie Hughes! I presume you are not yet ready to divulge any details just yet, but I can promise you that I'll find them out anyways!"

"I'm sure I don't know to what you are referring, Mrs. Patmore," Elsie replied back, somehow managing to keep a straight, stern expression as she faced off with the cook.

Mrs. Patmore just leaned in and whispered in Elsie's ear, "For the sake of that thoughtful bear of a man sitting down the hall, I hope you know exactly 'to what I am referring,' as you put it, Mrs. Hughes, because if you truly have no idea, then you must be the blindest woman on earth!"

Elsie just laughed and shook her head, marching down the hall toward the blessed peace that her sitting room would offer. _Here we go, _she thought. _Back to 'normal' indeed … and God help us all._

* * *

Anna knocked gently on the sitting room door. "Come in," Elsie called.

"Oh, is it ever so good to see _you_ seated in that chair instead of me!" Anna said. Elsie noticed that Anna looked absolutely exhausted, with dark circles under her eyes. She wondered for the first time if being both lady's maid and housekeeper for a few days had been too much for Anna, especially so soon after having been ill. She motioned for the younger woman to sit in an empty chair, and noticed that Anna almost collapsed into it. _My, my. She looks as though she's not slept a wink. _

"I'm sure you did very well, Anna. The ledgers are flawless and everything looks just as I left it." She needed a deep breath for the next bit, but she managed to continue, "Anna, I truly cannot thank you enough for filling my shoes these past few days … and evenings," she said quietly, glancing at the floor. _You will NOT __blush, Elsie Hughes … damn. Futile thought, really. You should have known._

Anna pretended not to notice. "Mrs. Hughes, after all you and Mr. Carson have done to support myself and Mr. Bates over the years, this was the very least I could do. It was nothing, really. We owe you so very much."

Elsie looked back at Anna, hearing the catch in the young woman's voice. She watched Anna furiously wipe away tears, knowing that Anna was disappointed with herself for falling apart. There was just so much emotion built up in that girl that was always on the verge of overflowing. _Is it any wonder, Els? The girl has been through her own hell and come back, time and time again. She's at least as strong as you, and probably a great deal more. _

Elsie reached over and took Anna's hand. "You owe me nothing, Anna. Truly."

Anna just nodded. When Elsie moved to pour her a cup of tea, however, she declined politely. "No, I think I'll pass. But thank you."

Elsie looked at her curiously. "But, Anna, you barely had anything at breakfast either. You're not falling ill again, are you?"

Anna looked at the floor, and whispered quietly, "No … I'm certain that I'm not ill."

Suddenly, it all clicked into place for Elsie. The fatigue she'd noticed in Anna lately, the overflowing emotions, the lack of appetite, the utter lack of color in the woman's face. "Oh, Anna! You didn't have the flu at all, did you?"

Anna looked up at her and gave her a half-smile. "No, but it was a wonderful coincidence, wasn't it? No one knows but Mr. Bates and Lady Mary, but I did plan to tell you this morning as well. Lady Mary suggested we wait to tell everyone else, just for another month or so to be sure everything is progressing as it should. I've an appointment with Dr. Clarkson today, actually, but he assured me at the last one that things look good." She paused. "It took such a very long time, I was beginning to think it would never happen for us."

"Yes, well, you've been through a lot recently. From what I gather, worry is not conducive to becoming pregnant."

Rising suddenly from her seat, Elsie enveloped Anna in a huge hug. "I'm so happy for you!" she said. "Thank you so much for telling me."

"I'd have done so even if you weren't my superior, Mrs. Hughes," Anna told her, tearing up once again. "You're like a mother to me," she whispered. "I so hope you'll be part of our child's life."

With that, Elsie teared up herself. _Again ... sigh._ "The feeling is mutual, Anna," she whispered back. "This bairn of yours is going to be very well-loved, indeed."

_A wee one at last,_ Elsie thought. _Oh, my darling girl … thank you for bringing me such wonderful news._

As each woman took her seat again, Anna asked, "Mrs. Hughes?"

"Yes, my dear?"

"You may tell Mr. Carson, if you wish. Mr. Bates and I trust him implicitly. But no one else must know until next month."

Elsie smiled broadly. "Oh, he will be very happy for you, Anna. But would you not rather he hear from Mr. Bates himself?"

Anna laughed. "Probably not," she said. "If Mr. Bates tells even _one _person about it, he'll tell them all – he's just that happy."

"Well, alright then, but only so he doesn't worry if you appear ill all the time."

The two women reviewed the past few days' worth of invoices and ledger entries, and Anna rose to leave. Elsie gave her another hug, and whispered in her ear, "I cannot tell you enough how happy I am for you, my dear girl."

Anna thanked her, and turned to leave.

"Oh, and Anna?" said Elsie.

"Yes, Mrs. Hughes?"

"Watch yourself around Mrs. Patmore," said Elsie with a wink. "If she hasn't figured it out by now, she's certain to do so soon. The woman is _unbelievable_ when she's got a bee in her bonnet, and she misses nothing."

Anna giggled. "Yes, I'm trying to avoid _her _at all costs!"

* * *

The rest of the day passed without incident. Charles and Elsie didn't even see each other, he being busy with the family upstairs and she getting rotas and scheduling done for the upcoming week. She hadn't thought to ask Anna to do that, and she was now grateful because it had saved Anna from more work and gave Elsie something with which to occupy her thoughts.

Elsie managed to see Anna in passing in the hallway later that day, and noticed the girl looked very pale indeed. "How was the appointment?" she asked quietly.

"Oh, it went well, I'm just exhausted," came Anna's reply. It was unlike Anna to own up to feeling weak in any way, and Elsie grasped the young woman's shoulders and turned her around, pointing her back toward the stairs.

"Go home, Anna. Get some sleep."

"But I need to dress Lady Mary, the gong's going to be rung soon," she protested.

"I'll take care of Lady Mary, and I'll dress her in the morning as well. She won't mind," Elsie insisted. _At least, she'd BETTER __not mind, or she'll hear of it from me._

Anna acquiesced, feeling the strain she'd been under this past week. "I had no idea how exhausted I'd feel, honestly. Dr. Clarkson insists it will pass soon, though. I'm almost through the first trimester and things should improve after that."

"Excellent," Elsie said. "Now, go! I'll inform Mr. Bates when I see him."

"Thank you," Anna replied gratefully, and she headed down the stairs.

Elsie knocked on Lady Mary's door and entered.

"Mrs. Hughes!" Lady Mary exclaimed. "Where's Anna?"

"She was exhausted after her appointment so I sent her home," Elsie replied, her raised eyebrows communicating at once that she was aware of Anna's condition.

"Ah, I see," replied Lady Mary. "Good. She's been terribly tired this week ... " Elsie noticed the woman suddenly looked horrified. "Not that I mean to say that's _your _fault in any way, Mrs. Hughes … but …" she stammered.

"No worry, Milady, I understand," said Elsie kindly. _Lady Mary, regretting her words … will wonders never cease? _"I've told Anna I'll fill in for her this evening and tomorrow morning, and I plan to do so any time she may need me to so that she can keep up her strength. I do hope that's alright with you."

Lady Mary nodded. "Yes, of course. How kind of you."

Elsie smiled, and looked her in the eyes. "Anna means a great deal to me, Milady … a great deal, indeed," she said softly.

"And to me," came the reply. "She's stood by me through some difficult times, as you well know."

Elsie buttoned the back of Lady Mary's dress, lost in her thoughts for a moment. "I'd say you've helped her just as much, though, if I may say so."

"You may, and that may well be true." After a pause, she continued. "Mrs. Hughes, I know I'm not particularly well liked below-stairs, and I admit it does not bother me greatly what most people think of me. But Anna and Mr. Carson have always supported me, and I feel very … protective … of them," she said.

Elsie bristled. "Milady?" _Just what in hell is THAT __supposed to mean?_

"I only mean that I think we have something in common, Mrs. Hughes," said Lady Mary softly.

As Elsie moved to gather the jewelry and gloves that were to accompany the dress, she tried very hard to focus her thoughts. _Well, well … protective__, is she? Hmm._

Elsie moved to place the necklace over Lady Mary's head, and replied, "Yes, it seems that we do have something in common. And, Milady, if I may say so … your feelings are a credit to you."

Lady Mary blushed slightly, a sight that Elsie never thought she'd see in all her years on this earth. "Thank you," she said quietly.

"Milady, I need to thank you for your support for me as well," Elsie began. "I cannot possibly express how much easier my trip home was thanks to the comforts that you provided. It was most generous of you."

"Mrs. Hughes, you're a valued member of this household and, as I said in my note, I understand how painful it is to lose one's sister." She faltered a bit, but gathered herself. "It was my pleasure to do what I could."

"Yes, well, thank you again," Elsie replied. _Don't let this become awkward, Els. _"If there's nothing else?"

"No, that will be all. Thank you, Mrs. Hughes."

Elsie nodded and left. Heading down the hall, she was stunned to almost run into Charles. "Els- … Mrs. Hughes?" he stammered softly, kicking himself for almost using the familiar name that he was already used to saying. "Whatever are you doing up here?" _Oh, truly, could you have made that sound any more awful, old man? _"I mean … "

Elsie smiled, briefly touching his hand in the otherwise empty hallway. "I understood what you meant, Mr. Carson. I've sent Anna home early as she wasn't feeling well, and I've just left Lady Mary."

Charles raised his eyebrows. "Really? And how did that go?" he asked with a tinge of amusement, knowing full well there was no love lost on the part of one Scottish housekeeper for his favorite Crawley daughter.

Elsie just smiled. "Quite well, actually. I'm not sure, but I think I've made a friend. Or, at the very least, an ally. It appears that we have some things in common."

"Oh, I know that you do," he replied with a smirk. _Intelligent mind, fiery temper, sharp tongue, occasional lack of self-confidence .._. "Will I see you later this evening?" _I hope so, please say yes …_

Elsie nodded and then, remembering the vent in the wall of her parlour, said "Your pantry, I suggest?"

Charles understood immediately. "Yes, that would be best from now on, I think. I'll see you then," he replied softly, placing his hand on her arm and squeezing it gently before heading off to serve dinner.

* * *

Charles headed into the dining room, pleased to be resuming his normal role in the household after a week of only sporadically overseeing dinner service. He'd recently been entertaining thoughts of retiring, but Elsie had said she wasn't ready and he wouldn't dream of leaving without her. At least with them both in the house they saw each other often enough, able to share most meals together and their "wee bit of sherry," as she put it. No, if he retired without her he'd only be pacing a path in the kitchen floor as he waited for her to get home every night.

_Taking things a little too far, too fast there, eh old boy? _Charles had to keep reminding himself that there was no plan, per se, for the cottage. They'd have to discuss what to do: rent it out for now to a family, perhaps for a year or two, maybe longer? There was no plan for retirement yet, and no plan for where to take their new-found relationship, either. _And whose fault is THAT__? _Charles knew it would be up to him to propose marriage, but it was definitely too early. He kept forgetting that the new, affectionate relationship he shared with Elsie was barely a day old; in many ways, it felt as though they'd already been married for years. He certainly felt as though he'd been waiting for her his entire life, but he knew deep down in his heart that she'd been waiting forever for _him _… for him to realize his own feelings at last, and to take the first step.

Charles had always been able to oversee dinner with a split mind: attention on the family – 'More wine, Milord?' – taking up one half, and his own thoughts occupying the other. The entire family was seated around the table this evening, including the Dowager, Lady Rosamund and Mrs. Crawley. Charles had expected Lady Rosamund to be there, given the troubles with plumbing at her own home, but the older ladies were a last-minute addition. _Funny, they seem to be spending a great deal of time together lately … I wonder what that's about. _Charles was amused to see the two of them getting on so well. He secretly thought it good that the Dowager had a friend to keep her on her toes and marveled at how the two women would stand up for one another at times when no one expected it of them. _Mrs. Crawley's care of the Dowager during her illness was surely the first step on that path. I thought we would lose her then for sure … thank God for Mrs. Crawley. _It comforted him to know that he wasn't the only one who worried about the formidable matriarch.

Charles noticed that the family was finishing up, and arranged for the wine to be taken away. He knew Lord Grantham and Mr. Branson would likely retire to the library, and he was somewhat surprised at his disappointment in that. The library had always been a refuge for Charles, its books a reminder of the days he'd spent lost in history and literature because the real world was too stark and lonely. He'd valued Lord Grantham's kindness in lending books to his staff, and despite all his years at Downton, Charles knew he'd never be able to read half of all it contained. Tonight, though, he didn't feel the draw that the library had so often produced. Now he was hearing a new siren song in his head and heart, one that soothed to his frequent feelings of loneliness in the way that books and history never did; it was a much more personal (_much more passionate_) song. He couldn't wait to be finished with his duties so that he could see his Elsie again. _To hold her hand, to hold her in my arms, that's all I want. _

It was an unbearably long time standing at attention in that library.

* * *

A knock sounded on the door to the butler's pantry and Charles picked his head up quickly, expecting to see Elsie walking into the room. Instead, he was surprised to see Lady Mary.

Standing quickly, he said, "Good evening, Milady. What brings you down here at this hour? Surely you could have rung for me?"

"Please, Carson, sit." He did, and she took the chair opposite him. "I'm on an errand for Grandmama, if you must know. She pulled me aside after dinner, and asked me to give you this," she said, handing him a small box. "I've no idea what it contains, but it looks to be very old. I asked if there was a message to go with it. All she said was that you'd know what it was, and to tell you 'It's time.'"

Charles looked at the parcel in his hand, turning it over slowly. It was a wooden box, hand-hewn, about the size of his hand, and was very old indeed. "Oh, my goodness," was all he said.

Lady Mary saw the look on Charles's face and wanted desperately to enquire as to its reason, but she kept silent. It appeared as if she'd lost him for a minute; his eyes were on the box in his hand but his thoughts were clearly very far away. She sat there watching him, feeling as though she were intruding on something very private. _Leave it to Grandmama to ask me to carry out a mysterious errand. But why on earth would she have something in her possession that Carson clearly recognizes? I've certainly never laid eyes on it._

Charles suddenly came out of his reverie, placing the box in his desk drawer. "Thank you, Milady," was all he said, clearly indicating that the matter was not one he wished to discuss. He fervently hoped she'd have the tact to realize he was not interested in talking about it, and thankfully she seemed to understand.

"You're very welcome, Carson." Then, an amused look in her eye, "It seems Mrs. Hughes is settling back in nicely? I had the chance to speak with her this afternoon – Anna is ill once again."

"Yes, so I heard, Milady. I do believe Mrs. Hughes is happy to be back, yes. Her voyage was long, and … difficult."

"She has no family remaining, does she?" Lady Mary thoughtfully asked. "That just occurred to me. How sad, truly."

Charles had entertained the same thought, but hadn't spoken of it aloud. "Yes, her parents are long gone and Becky was her only sibling." He felt as though he was walking a fine line, knowing Elsie didn't discuss her private life with anyone but also knowing what he shared wasn't exactly a secret.

"Well, then," she continued, "it's no wonder why she seems so happy here." With a smile, she rose, and Charles stood and walked her to the door.

"Have a good evening, Milady," was all he said.

"Good evening, Carson."

* * *

After finishing her work for the day, Elsie headed briskly downstairs. As she approached the butler's pantry, she heard the familiar tinkling of glasses and a decanter. She knocked on Charles's door and immediately entered the room, a broad smile on her face that faltered when she saw him. _Oh, Elsie … he looks exhausted. _

Charles looked up and his face broke into a smile, erasing at once all of the fatigue she'd seen seconds ago. He pointed at the door, indicating that she should close it. She did, and before she could even turn around she felt warm, strong arms encircling her waist and the wonderful feeling of his head resting on hers.

"Well, isn't this a lovely welcome?"

He chuckled softly. "Not as lovely as the woman who just walked through my door," he replied.

"Cheeky!" Elsie sighed the happiest of sighs, still struggling to wrap her head around how quickly the butler had fully transformed into the man she loved. It had taken years for her to chip away at the wall that had held him back, and while she wasn't sure what the final, successful strike against it had been, she was grateful, _oh yes, _eternally grateful that it had happened. When it fell for good, a deluge of love had burst forth from him and had swept her away, and Elsie knew it would continue to carry her for the rest of their lives. They stood like that for a while, each enjoying the feel, warmth, and scent of the other.

Elsie knew some might think it ridiculous that she felt so _certain_, that perhaps she was moving too quickly, counting on a future that had never been discussed. But Elsie knew that their future would not be built on one specific set of words, on one particular proposal. No, theirs was a future that was being constructed slowly over the course of decades: it was a quilt stitched together of caring thoughts, words and deeds, of arguments and reconciliations, of support through tough times, and reassuring words in times of weakness, of laughter and lively banter, of the buttering of her toast and the making of his tea.

And if she did happen to doubt the surety of his feelings, she would only have to remember Charles's purchase of the cottage by the lake. That gesture alone spoke volumes of what he desired for his own future; he'd never have purchased a home for himself that was so clearly chosen with _her _in mind, childhood home or not. The place didn't have many happy memories for him, and she knew he hoped to replace the unhappy ones with better times ahead. Yes, they were on the cusp of much bigger and better things. _Retirement, when he's ready … marriage, when he gets around to proposing …_ Elsie knew in her heart of hearts that despite what she had told Charles, she'd leave the house and her job tomorrow if he asked her to, but she didn't feel that he was anywhere near ready. He'd said as much just last night. _Just last night … how strange. It seems like years and years ago. Oh, to be lost in these arms every night …_

Thinking a bit of distance might be more conducive to chatting, Elsie pulled herself from Charles's embrace. _Distance … yes, distance is good … _Turning to the table, she laughed aloud at the sight of the glasses on the tray: whiskey, of course. "I shall try not to tip out my glass this evening."

Charles laughed along with her. "For the sake of your dress, that would be wise, although I must admit I was most flattered to have captured your unwavering attention."

They settled into their seats, which Elsie noticed were now placed close enough to allow them to hold hands. She reached out and took his, caressing her thumb over the top, noticing each freckle and the texture of the skin. _It is so easy to get lost in this. _

Charles marveled at the change he'd felt the instant the door had closed. He felt as though he were living two lives now. He was Mr. Carson by day, in front of everyone else; he was Charles by night, and in stolen moments alone such as when he'd found her outside of Lady Mary's room this afternoon. That reminded him, "Elsie, is Anna alright?"

He was puzzled as he saw the smile come to Elsie's face. "Yes, she's quite alright. But she's very tired … and will be for the next several months or so …" she trailed off.

Charles stared at her for a moment as he pondered her words, and then a huge grin broke out on his face, one which made Elsie's heart absolutely sing. "She's … finally? A baby?" he whispered.

"Yes, Charles, they are expecting, sometime in April, I believe. No one but us, Lady Mary and Dr. Clarkson are to know yet, but in a few weeks Anna and Mr. Bates will inform the rest of the staff."

Elsie was astounded at the happiness she saw on Charles's face. She had caught him out once with little Sybbie when she was just a babe, but when she commented on it he'd chided her for her sentimentality. Still, she knew he had a soft spot for children, and that he'd been close to all three Crawley daughters as they'd grown up. Yes, he would be quite happy at the thought of a baby for the Bates family.

"I won't say a word, but I may have to congratulate Mr. Bates when I see him. Privately, of course," he said. "I wonder what their plans are."

"I've no idea," admitted Elsie. "I can't bear the thought that they'd leave, but Anna is now a lady's maid; her responsibilities do leave her some free time throughout the day, and so she may be able to work something out. She and Lady Mary are close, and I'm sure they'll manage to come to an agreement. I believe Lady Mary would do a great deal to help Anna remain by her side."

"I've heard you say more kind words about Lady Mary today than I've heard in the entire time I've known you. What's going on, Elsie?"

Elsie looked pointedly at him, and raised her eyebrows. "Let's just say Lady Mary and I are in agreement about a few things, and Anna is one of them."

"And the others?" he asked, now curious.

"Well, you may have come up in conversation. I do believe she was trying to ascertain if I planned to watch out for you … or something like that," Elsie said with a twinkle in her eye. "You know Lady Mary; she can speak volumes with just a couple of words and a look."

"Yes, much like you, isn't she?" Charles said, earning him a playful swat. _Oh, but that was worth it!_

Elsie just shook her head. "I hate to say so, Charles, but I'm positively exhausted."

"Then let's get you to bed," he said, then immediately blushed as he saw her expression. "That's _not _… I mean …" _Oh, bloody hell._

Elsie's peal of laughter rang throughout the room. "I know perfectly well what you meant, Charles. And for what it's worth, you looked quite done for yourself when I walked into this room … before you successfully distracted me," she finished. "Let's go up."

"Of course. Only … may I kiss you goodnight? Here, I mean?" he asked.

Elsie said nothing, but rose from her seat and pulled him up by the hand. Placing their glasses on the tray, she turned to him and placed her hands on his chest. Looking into his eyes, she slowly raised a hand to his cheek, letting her fingers trail through the hair just above his ear and taking a moment to appreciate how distinguished the gray and white strands made him look. His hand mimicked hers, and each marveled at the warmth and closeness the gesture gave. Their lips met, softly at first, the kiss slowly increasing in intensity. After a few moments, Charles managed to tear himself away ... but only just.

"I think that will need to be enough for one night, Mrs. Hughes," he said in his best butler voice.

Breathless, Elsie just nodded, trying to force the sudden melancholic feelings down into the pit of her stomach. She knew they had to be most careful … it may feel to them as though they'd been a married couple forever, but the rest of the household must be kept in the dark until a formal proposal was made. Letting themselves get carried away would serve no good at all.

"I think it best if I head up alone."

Charles nodded, placing one last kiss to her lips. "Good night, then. Sweet dreams."

"Yes, thank you," she replied. _And I can't wait to dream them. _


	13. Chapter Thirteen: Glass

**A/N: Thanks so very much for all your kind reviews! I'm overwhelmed, truly. **

**Much love to the AWESOME silhouettedswallow for setting me straight as to the layout of the servants' corridor (a.k.a. the hallway) – I was happy to discover I'm not losing my mind. She's also made my words nice and concise. (This is a remarkable undertaking, as you can see from notes such as these.)**

**Special shout-out to deeedeee, without whose request this chapter would never have happened. I'm ever so glad for it, though, as it was tremendous fun to write! xx**

**Spotify has a list for all music - Username: CheslieSouloftheAbbey, playlist is "Music of the Heart" (makes sense, no?)**

* * *

_We are fragile, we are human,_

_We are shaped by the light we let through us._

_We break fast, 'cause we are glass …_

_**~"Glass," by Thompson Square**_

* * *

**_December 15_**

"Um … a letter for you, Mrs. Hughes," said Charles, handing her an envelope from the morning mail delivery.

"Thank you, Mr. Carson," she replied, her brow furrowed. _Who on earth is writing to ME__?_

Elsie took the envelope he held out, ever-so-carefully not touching his fingers. They'd learned weeks ago – the day after she'd returned from Argyll, in fact – that any form of physical contact just couldn't happen in front of the staff; it was, they now knew, the one thing that flustered them to the point where one or the other would have to leave the room.

_Not that there's a great deal of touching when the staff ISN'T __present, _Elsie thought, but she knew that was for the best. If they ever crossed the bridge from hand-holding and soft, lingering kisses to more intimate touching, or even to another searing kiss like the one she'd received that first night back, there would be absolutely no returning to normalcy. As it was, they were holding on by the thinnest of threads. The evenings they spent sequestered in his pantry gave them something to look forward to, though; those evenings, where their love could at least exist out in the open, alive in their looks and words and soft touches, seemed to be saving what was left of their sanity. _For now._

Elsie wondered how long they could go on like this, but then she would shake her head at her own silliness. That precious time alone, holding hands and sipping wine, was already so much more intimate than what they'd experienced in the past, and she was grateful just to know that she had his heart securely wrapped inside her own. She was content with the way things had to be between them. _For now._

Charles, meanwhile, was staring at the envelope in fear, as if it would spontaneously combust in her hand before his very eyes. He had, of course, recognized the handwriting immediately, and was terrified about the reason Elsie would be receiving any sort of correspondence from the Dowager Countess. She barely ever had the opportunity to speak more than two words to Elsie, perhaps at an event such as the Servants' Ball or at Christmas, but even those words were not always what one could consider overly friendly.

_This cannot be good._

To make matters worse, he couldn't even ask about it, couldn't warn her before she headed to her sitting room and slipped the letter opener underneath the flap to release the contents. And then, in utter horror, he realized that wasn't her intention at all. _Blast! She's tearing it open right here! _Quaking in his seat, he hoped no one else was watching. Realizing that he was staring, Charles looked away, suddenly unable to finish his meal without choking.

Elsie saw Charles's strange reaction, saw the trembling and the flushed cheeks. _What on earth is HIS __problem? _Shaking her head and sighing imperceptibly (almost), she tore open the envelope with a burning curiosity. Elsie didn't expect any mail now that Becky was gone and wondered from whom it had come. Unfolding the note within, she glanced at its scant contents. She sat back hard in her chair, feeling as though the wind had been knocked out of her.

The note was quite succinct:

_The Dowager Countess of Grantham requests_

_that you join her for tea_

_Thursday, the 15__th__ of December._

_Please present yourself promptly at half four._

Elsie huffed. She read the note twice, and then once more. _The nerve!_ Shooting an exasperated look at Charles, she simply said, "Mr. Carson, it appears I'll be away from the house for a bit this afternoon. I hope it won't be an inconvenience?"

Charles sputtered on the tea he'd foolishly decided to sip. "Of course not, Mrs. Hughes." He could see that she was ready to fly off the handle, so he quickly rose and dismissed the staff from the table. He headed to his pantry in the hopes that she'd soon follow.

She didn't.

Elsie was furious. She didn't work for the Dowager, she never had. She didn't appreciate being invited – _no, summoned! _– to attend tea. The note was obviously not a simple social invitation.

After the anger subsided, Elsie was left confused. She'd no idea why the Dowager wanted to see her. _Well, that's not entirely true, now is it? She could have one thing she wishes to discuss with you, lass. One very tall, grumbly, liveried, lovely thing. _

_But why?_ According to Charles, the Dowager had encouraged him to come forth with his (_their_) story, and Elsie assumed that meant the woman would be supportive of their happiness. Actually, Elsie had wondered at first if it was a push from the Dowager that gave Charles the confidence he'd needed, but she never asked him about it. She huffed again, annoyed that, despite their ages, their futures seemed to lay in the hands of the Grantham family. She and Charles were forced to toe the line between their servant personas and being able to live as independent adults and, while that had never been an issue before, it was certainly becoming more annoying as they approached retirement age. _We are adults! Not children!_

Reading the note once again, Elsie thought about the woman who'd written it. Perhaps there wasn't exactly the animosity Elsie had read into it at first. She knew it was the way things were done, and it was most certainly the Dowager's way – summoning and being listened to without challenge, so used to controlling everyone around her. _There's no point in wasting any more time thinking on this, Els. It's not like you've got a choice. _Realizing she'd have to rein in her feelings in order to get through the rest of the day, Elsie tucked the note into her pocket and headed up to make her rounds, hoping in the process to catch Anna and let the girl know she'd be out for a while.

* * *

As the afternoon wore on, Charles was dismayed to not have seen Elsie again, but with the Christmas holiday fast approaching and the house to be decorated he knew her time was becoming increasingly occupied. He did glimpse her once at the opposite end of a hallway, but he'd been heading into the library and she disappeared around a corner without a glance in his direction. He felt lost without her, without those little looks he received in passing, without snippets of cheerful greetings and acknowledgements as they made their way through the day. It was so terribly lonely and made him dread the idea of spending another day without her by his side. The fact that the Season was mere months away was unthinkable to him. He'd never make it then, surely; if he couldn't make it through two hours without seeing her, he'd never survive months of only a letter a day and a phone call once a week.

_Time to do something about that, old man._

Charles remembered Elsie saying that she wasn't ready to retire, but he began to wonder if they _could _simply retire at different times. It was only a couple of months ago that he couldn't imagine retirement without her, couldn't envision spending a day alone at their cottage awaiting her return each night, but now those thoughts were infinitely better than the idea of months with him in London and her left behind here. No, he'd have to make some progress, some kind of change, before the Season arrived. He felt confident that she wouldn't turn him down, but he'd have to speak to His Lordship to ensure there would be no … snags. The last thing he would do was jeopardize her job.

Before heading for the staff dinner (_which we'll obviously have to hold without her if she's gone much longer_) Charles headed into the butler's pantry, closing the door behind him. He sat at his desk and removed the old, wooden box from his desk drawer. Opening it slowly, he was startled to note that the contents were wrapped in an old handkerchief. He didn't remember ever having seen that particular one before but, then again, it was a long time ago since he'd laid eyes on any of the things it contained, either.

Charles peeled away the corner of the cloth, letting his fingers brush across the contents. He was suddenly lost in a myriad of memories and it was a true struggle to bring himself back. He extracted the items he needed and wrapped them in the handkerchief before carefully closing the box once again. He tucked the box back into the desk drawer with a deep sigh and placed the miniature bundle in his waistcoat pocket.

_Christmas Eve, you'll ask her then. _

An extra spring in his step, Charles patted the soft lump he'd placed in his pocket and headed to servants' hall.

* * *

Having met with Anna (who was looking decidedly better these last couple weeks, thank goodness), Elsie made her way to the Dower House. She was grateful that there was no snow yet and she enjoyed the walk despite the chill in the air. It gave her time to organize her thoughts and clear her head. Realizing she had no idea what she'd be walking into once she arrived, Elsie simply decided to focus on her love for Charles and on the trust that the Dowager seemed to place in him – _and in you, if she asked him to tell his story_. It didn't even occur to Elsie that Charles might not be the reason behind the visit; after she'd thought about it, she knew that's exactly what she'd have to discuss. The thought made her cringe inwardly; she could barely think of him when she was in the hubbub of the servants' hall without flushing. Goodness knows how she'd survive the Dowager's piercing gaze.

She understood that the Dowager had known Charles almost his whole life and she knew this had probably made the old woman the first to see his feelings for Elsie, perhaps long before he even acknowledged them himself. The woman was ever so perceptive, her age masking a keen eye and even sharper mind. Was it possible that she felt she was fulfilling her promise of long ago by seeing Charles married off, cared for, before she died? _How absolutely … none of her business. _

The thought had barely settled in her mind before Elsie realized it was unfair. Charles's life most certainly was the business of this formidable woman, even now. Allowing him to return to Downton all those years ago was the best thing she'd ever done, in Elsie's opinion, because it secured the status of the estate in the eyes of the country. Downton was well-known for its impeccable presence, both in Yorkshire and far beyond. Its reputation was without question, and Elsie knew that regardless of the behind-the-scenes work she herself had done to contribute to that status, no house became truly great without an outstanding butler. Yes, the Dowager did indeed owe a great deal to Charles Carson. Perhaps ensuring his happiness was her odd way of repaying him. And if she found Elsie to be worthy of his love, of his life? _Well, then … bully for her_, she thought with a smirk.

_So that's what this tea is, then. It's a test. But why now? She was sure enough before to let me find out her story._

It was strange, but the idea of being examined to see if she was truly good enough for Charles was actually more comforting than the unknown dread of being summoned to take tea with the Dowager Countess of Grantham. At least it showed that the old woman cared for Charles – enough, at least, to take tea with a housekeeper, which was a monumental occurrence for the ever-proper woman. Elsie took a moment as she stood on the doorstep to gather herself; she hoped she'd be good enough to pass muster. Then she remembered she was not a child anymore but a sixty-two-year-old woman, and reassured herself that Charles did, indeed, seem to want a future with her _outside _of the Abbey … someday. She reached out toward the servants' door and knocked, waiting for an answer.

It came in the form of Miss Denker. _Sigh. _

"Mrs. Hughes," she said, curiosity clearly written all over her face. "What can I do for you?"

"The Dowager Countess is expecting me for tea, I believe," Elsie said with a satisfied smile. _Nice to keep this one on her toes, isn't it?_

Miss Denker's eyebrows rose as high as they could go. "Indeed? Well, I'll have Mr. Spratt show you up."

It was all Elsie could do not to roll her eyes, both with disdain for Miss Denker and in anticipation of the agony of spending a moment in Mr. Spratt's presence. Upon his arrival, however, Mr. Spratt did not say a word except for "Follow me, Mrs. Hughes," and he led her upstairs to where the Dowager was waiting.

Elsie entered the room with her head held high, determined to neither be intimidated nor concerned about the conversation that would take place. _You've nothing to fear from her, Elsie. Have faith in Charles and the fact that he holds her in such high regard. After all, except for you, this woman is the last person on this planet who would willingly cause him heartache. _That thought alone was what gave her the ability to speak when addressed.

"Mrs. Hughes, thank you for coming," came the Dowager's voice.

_As if I had a choice!_

"Milady," she said, giving a small bow of her head. "Good afternoon. Thank you for inviting me."

"Please, be seated," the Dowager replied, indicating the settee.

Elsie took her seat and watched as Mr. Spratt poured the tea. He handed her a cup, barely holding in his curiosity and disdain at serving a fellow servant. He held out a plate of small cakes from which Elsie accepted a lemon one, graciously thanking him.

"Spratt, please leave us now," said the Dowager. "I will ring when your presence is once again required."

"But, Milady … surely I should remain? The tea?" he stumbled.

"Spratt, Mrs. Hughes is perfectly capable of refilling our teacups as needed. Now go."

Elsie watched bemusedly as a red-faced Mr. Spratt gave a small bow before scooting out of the room, securely closing the door behind him. She took a bite of her cake, more curious than ever at what she was about to hear.

"Mrs. Hughes, I am sure you're wondering why you're sitting in my drawing room."

"Yes, Milady, I am quite curious indeed," was Elsie's reply.

"Please be at ease, if possible. I only wish to discuss certain … things, with you." The Dowager took a sip of her tea, delicately placed the cup back on its saucer, and set them aside. She looked Elsie directly in the eyes.

Elsie returned her gaze fearlessly. "Things such as … one butler, I presume?" After a pause, she added, "And I think it safe to say I am not referring to yours."

The Dowager laughed out loud, the sound echoing throughout the room. "Well, cutting right to the heart of the matter! I do appreciate your directness, Mrs. Hughes, and your sharp wit. Yes, I wish to discuss Carson. I understand he has confessed his feelings to you at long last?"

Elsie was taken aback briefly. _Wait a minute … did he actually DISCUSS __them with the Dowager?_ But then it dawned on her that he likely never did. The man truly was a horrible liar, and if the Dowager had asked even once about a glance she'd observed, or a kind word she had overheard, it would have been futile on his part to deny it.

"Yes, he has," was her only response. _Better to see where she's headed with this._

"And has he given you the box?" she asked.

Elsie tilted her head in confusion. "The … box, Milady? No … he has not." _The box__? WHAT box? Unless … _Visions of a velvet-lined, smallish ring box flitted through her head. _Oh, surely not._

The Dowager sighed loudly, seemingly frustrated. "I see," she said. "I'd hoped he'd have done so by now, but Carson never was one to make decisions quickly. Moves at more of a glacial pace, I think."

Elsie had to laugh. "You're certainly correct there, Milady." The two women shared a smile, and Elsie refilled their cups.

"He has told you of his childhood, I presume?"

Elsie nodded. "Yes, Milady," she said softly, "he has." Then, after the briefest pause, "I wish to thank you for trusting me with that story. It was quite touching to hear that, despite losing his parents at such a young age, Charles was … loved." Elsie was so moved by the emotion that was playing out over the older woman's face that she didn't even realize she'd slipped and referred to him by his Christian name.

"Yes … he was indeed," came the soft reply. "I intend to make sure that he always will be. That is, as I'm sure you've guessed, the reason I asked you here today. But I can hear in the tone of your voice, and see in your eyes, Mrs. Hughes, that I have nothing to fear on that score."

Elsie was touched, truly touched, that the woman would so keenly see and appreciate her feelings for Charles. "No, Milady, you've nothing to fear whatsoever." She looked down at her hands, trying not to twist them into a knot. "I've loved him for a very, very long time," she almost whispered, knowing full well the Dowager would hear her nonetheless.

"I'm glad. Please do see that he gets around to marriage eventually, won't you, Mrs. Hughes? I don't think the man should die in livery, despite his claims in the past. Do you?"

Not knowing what to say, Elsie sipped her tea in silence. _How do I answer that? How do I tell her that we fear for our jobs, for the security we could lose if we chose to marry and were unable – not allowed – to remain in service? _But then she knew, she _knew _without a doubt that, if she told Charles tomorrow she was ready to leave, he'd retire alongside her, job be damned. And it _could _happen, just like that. They could afford it if she sold the farm. _Oh God, it could happen before he's ripped away from the house for the damned Season!_

Of course, she made no mention of that to the Dowager. "Milady, I think his hesitation has to do with the tradition of butlers and housekeepers remaining unmarried," she said, "and also his concern that I'm not quite ready to retire." _Even if I am._

The Dowager let out a frustrated huff. "The two of you run that house, Mrs. Hughes, make no mistake! Even my characteristically short-sighted son is aware of that fact. If you did choose to marry, and were not ready to retire, I've no doubt that you'd be allowed to remain in service until you wished to do otherwise."

"Truly?" The answer slipped out before Elsie could think to keep it in, and she blushed slightly.

The Dowager only chuckled. "Yes, I'm fairly sure of my influence in this family, Mrs. Hughes." Then, more quietly, "It's time for you and Carson to make memories for yourselves that do not involve the Crawley family. Memories that, instead, are built upon the family that you are creating. Fix up the cottage and, for heaven's sake, set a date to be wed. There's really no question in _your _mind, is there?" she pushed.

"No, Milady," Elsie replied with a wide smile, "not one."

They chatted on about the cottage and, specifically, its garden. Charles had mentioned that it would be full of beautiful flowers in the summertime, and Elsie learned that those flowers were of the same varieties as those in the Dowager's own garden. They discussed the approaching holidays, and Mr. Branson's departure and how it weighed heavily upon Lady Mary. Elsie was grateful to have forged a more comfortable relationship with the eldest granddaughter, allowing her to honestly say kind things to the woman's grandmother.

After a surprisingly pleasant visit, the women finished their tea and the Dowager rang for her butler. "Mrs. Hughes is ready to leave, Spratt. Please show her out. The front door, I think."

Elsie started to protest, but was cut off immediately. "Thank you for coming to see me today, Mrs. Hughes. I do hope we have a chance to visit again soon."

"It was my pleasure, Milady," said Elsie. _And, oddly enough, it WAS. _

Barely sparing a look for Mr. Spratt, Elsie proceeded through the door and headed back to the Abbey, more hopeful than ever that a retirement by Charles's side was near.

* * *

Heading down the corridor toward the servants' hall, Charles couldn't help but be concerned. _Where __is __she? Why is she not back yet?_

Just then, the servants' entrance opened, and in walked Elsie Hughes.

"Where have you _been_?" Charles demanded quietly.

Elsie was taken aback by the forcefulness in his voice. "I beg your pardon? You most certainly know where I've been, Mr. Carson," she answered testily.

"But you've been gone for hours! We're just about to sit down to dinner."

"Yes, I suppose I have been gone awhile. Is that a problem?"

Charles started to sputter, unable to fathom why she couldn't see he'd been worried. "Surely you know that I was worried when I saw the note … "

"And why would it worry you? The Dowager had some things to discuss with me." Elsie was being purposefully vague now, her temper starting to rise as she thought of the gall he had in questioning why she'd not returned in what he'd determined to be a reasonable amount of time.

"What on earth did the Dowager Countess of Grantham have to discuss with _you_?" he said, realizing as soon as the words were out of his mouth that they sounded a bit harsher than he'd intended.

Elsie was flabbergasted. She brushed past him in a huff, but then stopped and turned to face him. "Well, that's put me in my place, hasn't it?" she said in a low, quiet voice that couldn't mean anything good. "I'm actually quite hungry, Mr. Carson, so if you don't _mind_, I'll just be off to have my dinner now!" She shot him a look full of her trademark Scottish fury and stormed into the servants' hall.

Charles was stunned, looking around the corridor to determine if there had been witnesses to her rash display of emotion. _How DARE __she? _He knew he was probably overreacting, but how could she not see that he'd had every reason to be concerned? _No one just gets "invited" to have tea with the Dowager. _He couldn't believe the "conversation" they'd just had. They'd been on the same page every day these past two months, as if acknowledging their love had ironed out all potential for disagreement. He'd been on the wrong end of her wrath countless times in the past, but he had thought they were past all that now.

_Evidently not._

Shaking his head, Charles made his way to dinner. Taking his seat, he motioned for the others to do the same. He noticed Elsie biting her lip, not in fear or amusement but with a look of absolute rage on her face. He didn't know what to say. Helpless, he tucked into his meal, wondering how on earth he was going to fix this. _Tonight, you'll talk it through tonight._

But the opportunity never came. After making his final rounds, Charles went in search of Elsie, wondering why she hadn't shown up at his pantry door after finishing her work. When he'd heard her leave her parlour he assumed had some last detail to take care of, but she never returned. Charles headed over to her door but noticed it was shut … and locked.

_She's gone to bed_, he realized sadly. _She's gone to bed without even saying good night._ Devastated, Charles headed up the stairs to his own room, steps heavier than usual, knowing that sleep would be elusive. As he entered his bedroom, thoughts started creeping into his head – the loss of her warm touch, a long-hoped-for happiness slipping out of his grasp.

* * *

From her room, Elsie heard Charles walking down the men's corridor. She was sitting in bed, holding a book in her lap but unable to see through the hot, angry tears falling from her eyes. Still furious, she'd studiously avoided him the entire night, managing to sequester herself away by inventorying linens and doing her rounds at a different time than usual.

Elsie knew she was being unreasonable, but she couldn't get past the accusatory look she'd seen in his eyes. She'd spent enough time cowering before angry men when she was a much younger woman, and she most certainly would not do so as an adult. Charles had seemed so very angry that she'd been gone so long, which was idiotic enough, but then he'd insinuated that she couldn't possibly have spent time conversing with the blessed Dowager Countess of Grantham. _And why not? We had a perfectly lovely conversation, a very nice tea indeed, after which you enjoyed a leisurely walk back to the house. If he only knew … But of course he doesn't, because he couldn't be bothered to ASK__. _

Slamming her book shut, Elsie put it on her night stand and tucked herself into bed, knowing sleep would be hard to come by.

* * *

The next morning brought no reprieve. Neither Charles nor Elsie had slept well. He thought he'd heard her get up in the middle of the night to head downstairs, presumably for some cocoa. He'd almost joined her but decided against it. Now he wished he had; surely she wouldn't have chanced a shouting match in the middle of the night. _Probably._

Elsie ate her breakfast in silence. She'd made his tea prior to his arrival, and hoped it hadn't grown too cold waiting for him. He didn't seem to notice either way. As soon as she was finished eating, she stood and left for her sitting room.

Charles couldn't take the silent treatment anymore. _Time to offer the olive branch, old man. _He finished his own meal and headed down the hall to her parlour. Knocking on the door (which, thankfully, was open this time), he walked in. Elsie was seated at her desk, back to the door, making some notes to organize her day.

"Yes?" _I refuse to turn around and face him … not yet. _

"Mrs. Hughes …" he began. "Elsie … I am sorry if I upset you last night."

She stopped writing, but stared at the paper in front of her. She spoke so quietly it took him a minute to realize that she'd spoken at all. "You don't know exactly why you've upset me though, do you?"

Charles was stuck. "I know that you're upset that I questioned you when you came back later than expected," he tried.

_Oh, the impossible man! _"Mr. Carson, that's not what has me upset. I'm very busy at the moment and truly don't have time to discuss this."

_That's it then, she's not talking to you. _Dejected, Charles only said, "Of course, Mrs. Hughes. I'm sorry to have disturbed you." He exited the sitting room, leaving the door open a crack. He leaned against the wall for a moment, needing to collect his thoughts.

He couldn't be positive, but he thought he heard a faint gasp, a tell-tale sign that she was crying.

_Damn. _

By lunchtime, Elsie was regretting her decision to give Charles the silent treatment. She'd not even seen him at luncheon – he'd asked Mr. Barrow to oversee it and had presumably taken a tray in his pantry. _Well, perhaps he's thinking of how best to apologize. But that's not really fair, is it? _

Elsie knew it was on her to apologize as well. After she'd cooled down and actually thought about his words, she realized that Charles, in his black-and-white view of the world, truly did _not _understand why she'd been summoned to see the Dowager Countess. One did not ask housekeepers to tea – it just wasn't done. It wouldn't have occurred to him that the woman wanted to talk about him, about his future with Elsie. Charles had been close to the woman his entire life, but he was still a traditional man. He wouldn't understand why one woman might want to vet a potential spouse for someone she cared about. It just wasn't done in his little world.

She felt awful and decided to find him before afternoon tea to have it out. She'd try to be fair, but he needed to see how she'd been hurt as well.

* * *

"Mr. Barrow, have you seen Mr. Carson this afternoon?" she asked.

"No, Mrs. Hughes. I believe he's gone out for the day." _She looks awful … they haven't spoken at meals at all ... _"He asked me to oversee the staff luncheon and tea, and dinner if he wasn't back by then, but that's all I know."

Elsie thanked him, noting somewhere in her jumbled mind the kind look he'd given her. She told Anna that she was heading out and asked the girl if she could keep an eye on everything for a couple of hours. Anna took one look at the housekeeper's face and agreed instantly. It was highly unusual for Mrs. Hughes to even _plan _a half-day where she actually left the house, so running out in a rush was cause enough for alarm. _Oh, no … I do hope they work this out._

Elsie practically sprinted to the cottage. She felt in her heart that's where she'd find Charles, but when she reached for the door handle she noted that it was still locked up tightly. She headed to the lakeside but saw no one on the bench or anywhere near the water. Angry and frustrated, she began to cry. She made her way toward the bench and sat, racking her brain for where on earth Charles could have gone. _He'd not have gone into town, surely? Oh, no … not to see the Dowager? _

Then, clear as day, Elsie knew where she'd find him. She wasn't sure how, but she was certain she was right. Standing, she walked briskly up the hill away from the cottage.

* * *

Charles stood at the edge of the stall, reaching in to pet His Lordship's prize stallion. The horse whinnied softly, touching on something Charles had kept hidden deep inside for many years. The sound brought to mind warm, happy memories that Elsie had recently caused to resurface.

He reached into his pocket and grabbed a peppermint from the bag he always carried for the children. _Children and horses, lovers of peppermints*. _He smiled, offering the treat and delighting in the nuzzle he received in return. "You like that, don't you boy?" he said. The horse just looked at him, staring right into Charles's soul with his huge, brown eyes. Charles was grateful for the peacefulness of the moment. In some small way it soothed him but it couldn't keep his heart from shattering.

_You've truly messed this up, and need to fix it. Now._ The problem was, he wasn't sure she'd give him the chance. She'd been avoiding him, he couldn't deny that. Part of him wanted to hunt her down and force her to talk, but a bigger part of him knew he had to let her be, that she'd come to him when she was ready.

Charles wasn't sure how long he stood in the stable doorway but he knew the instant that Elsie had spotted him. Something between them – their love, their familiar recognition of one another's footfalls, of one another's breathing, _something_ – just told him. He didn't turn but let her approach at her own pace.

Elsie crested the hill and stopped abruptly, watching as her beloved butler had a heart-to-heart with a horse. _Daft man_, she thought. Shaking her head, she approached him, relief coursing through her that she'd located him at last and that there was no one but the horses to hear them set things right.

She said nothing but slowly moved up to the horse in front of Charles, extending her hand slowly. It sniffed her glove then gave her hand a little nuzzle. "He's very handsome," she said softly.

Charles just looked at her, taking in the flush of her cheeks and the hair escaping from the strictly braided twist that encircled her head. _She left without her hat_, he thought inanely. His eyes moved from her cheeks to the redness of her lips. He noted the redness of her eyes as well. She wasn't watching him, but he knew she could feel his gaze crawling over her.

_I give up. _Charles took two steps to his right, slowly so as not to spook the horse, and placed his arm around her shoulder, pulling her into him until her face rested in the crook of his neck. He kissed her on the temple, squeezing her more tightly into his side.

"I am truly sorry, love … and frightened, I admit," he said.

Elsie raised her head, looking him square in the eyes. "Frightened of what?" She had a puzzled look on her face – she truly had no idea what he was afraid of.

"Of what? Of the fact that we had a hideous row, and now you don't want to speak to me!"

"Charles, I have every right to be upset. You shouted at me – in the hall, within earshot of the _staff _– about a personal visit that I paid to a woman who invited, or rather summoned, me to her home. To talk about _you_, I might add. And then you had the nerve to question the propriety of such a woman meeting with someone as … lowly … as a housekeeper. So yes, I was upset … and, frankly, quite hurt."

Charles was astounded. He never meant any of those things. Well, not really.

"Elsie, I didn't mean that you weren't _worthy _of taking tea with the Dowager. I only meant that it's so unlike her to … well …" he trailed off, afraid of upsetting her more.

"So unlike her to invite a servant for tea?" she asked. "Yes, it is. But she did have good reason."

Charles cringed, afraid of where this was headed. "Which was … ? If I may ask?"

Elsie looked up at him now, meeting his eyes with her own. "She wanted to be sure I'd be up to the task, I think."

"Up to the task of … _ohhh_**.**" Understanding dawned in Charles's eyes. "I see. And did you pass inspection?" he asked with a smirk.

"Yes, I believe I did. We had a lovely time, I'll have you know. That woman certainly takes a promise to heart, I can assure you of that."

"I can see that she does," he replied softly. "I'm glad for her approval, but I didn't need it." He stopped then, loosening his grip, and Elsie saw a trace of fear cross his face. "That is, if we are to continue on this … path."

Elsie was taken aback by that. "Charles … are you saying that because of one row you've changed your entire outlook on our future?" She willed herself not to cry again, but the thought of losing him because of a single fight was terrifying.

"No! But … damn it, Elsie, I upset you so easily and didn't know why. Surely that doesn't bode well for us." _For marriage._

"Charles, I'm the first to admit that I am uncomfortable when you raise your voice in anger, especially when it's directed at me. It brings me back to times I'd rather not remember. But, that said, have you ever known me to back down from a fight?"

He chuckled. "No, not at all. But ours are not typically this bad, are they? Particularly over these past couple of months … Did you realize we've not disagreed over anything since our time at the cottage?"

"Then I'd say we were due!" she replied, laughter in her eyes at last. "Oh, you silly man … Do you think our future will be free of disagreements and rows? This is _us_, Charles. We're both so set in our ways and full of emotions of all kinds. And while we share a great many of those emotions between us, we are still different people. We can't always agree."

"But you know I don't like it when we aren't in agreement, Elsie."

She reached up and kissed him lightly on the cheek. "Yes, I know. But it's going to happen, and we'll have to get through it."

"I'm sorry if I brought you back to a difficult place, Elsie."

She sighed. "Yes, well, it's part of who I am, just like your past is part of you. We can't just lay those things aside as though they never happened."

After a pause, she continued. "We may have moments of weakness, we will definitely have a row now and then, and we may even hurt one another at times, but as long as we can find our way back in the end then I think we'll do just fine."

Charles looked at her, turning her to face him fully. He nodded, pensive, then cocked his head. "You came after me," he said. "Why?"

Elsie shook her head, laughing quietly. "Why do you think? You ran away from me, and I couldn't let you leave. I'll always follow you, you know, wherever you go."

Charles was startled by that remark. "Anywhere?" he pressed.

She looked him straight in the eyes. "Absolutely."

He took a deep breath and leaned in as if to kiss her. She closed her eyes in anticipation, but before his lips met hers he whispered, "Marry me, Elsie."

Her eyes flew open in astonishment. "_What?_"

"Marry me … please?" he said, with a look of sweet uncertainty.

She stood there, stunned, even though she'd been half-expecting a formal proposal since the day after she'd returned from Argyll. "Yes," she whispered. "Yes, of course, my darling."

Tears in his own eyes now, Charles leaned forward and kissed her soundly on the lips. After a moment, they broke apart, flushed now from warmth instead of the windy cold. "Are you sure?"

She laughed again, and kissed him soundly on the lips once more. "Yes, I'm sure! I thought you'd never ask."

Charles moved suddenly, taking his arms from around her and reaching into his waistcoat pocket. Elsie was puzzled and looked at him with her brow furrowed. "Charles?"

He removed a handkerchief from his pocket – a very _old _handkerchief, from the look of it – and started to unfold it. He extracted something from within before folding it once again. Realization dawned in Elsie's eyes and she bit furiously on her bottom lip in a futile attempt to stop the tears gathering in her eyes from spilling over. She was incapable of moving, feeling as though the slightest touch would knock her to the ground. "Charles?" she whispered.

He just looked at her, and then (_oh my God he's actually going to do this_) she saw him get down on one knee.

"Elisabeth Margaret Hughes, I would be honored if you would accept this ring as a symbol of our betrothal."

Her nod came before he'd even finished speaking. He grasped her hand in his, sliding the ring over her finger and kissing it where it lay, sending up a silent prayer that it fit.

"Get up, you old booby, before you can't manage it," she said, shaking her head, joy visible in her tear-filled eyes.

Charles complied, raising to kiss her soundly on the lips. "I do realize that you cannot wear this in front of the staff, in front of anyone, just yet … "

Elsie hadn't even thought of that, actually. "But I will … " she trailed off, knowing full well as she said the words that it would be impossible.

"No … hold on … " She watched as he took something else from the handkerchief. "I was rather thinking you could wear it this way, for now … " he trailed off.

She watched as he removed the most delicate silver chain she'd ever seen. It was exceptionally thin and glinted in the sunlight that peeped into the stables. Unable to speak, she simply nodded and removed the ring from her finger so that he could slide it on the chain. She turned and opened the top buttons of her coat, allowing him to affix the chain around her neck, his fingers ever-so-deftly managing the clasp but brushing the nape of her neck. The ring fell to the front of her dress. For the millionth time, Elsie wondered how hands that were so large and strong could manage such a delicate touch, to say nothing of being able to operate the clasp. If his touch hadn't burned her skin each time she'd felt it these past few weeks, she wasn't sure she'd have noticed he'd touched her at all.

"It's time to head back." His voice pulled Elsie from her reverie. "Perhaps we should each walk back alone?"

"Not on your life, Mr. Carson. Half the staff knows I headed out to find you. I don't think they'll be any more suspicious if we return together. They were concerned, you know. You never just _leave_."

Charles sighed, knowing that his actions as of late were out of character but unable to stop them. "I'm going to have to speak to His Lordship soon, Elsie. It's not fair to keep this from him, and I don't want him finding out from anyone else."

She looked at him then, taking his hand in hers. "I have it on good authority that we won't be asked to leave, Charles. But if that doesn't turn out to be true, you must know that I'd marry you tomorrow if we could. I'd leave it all behind if that's what is needed."

Charles's eyes opened wider. "But you said you weren't ready? I thought … I thought you wanted more time?"

She covered her hands over her mouth and bent forward, shaking silently, and for a confused moment Charles thought she was weeping. Then the sound of her laughter came forth, startling the horses. "Elsie?"

Elsie straightened, wiping the tears of laughter from her eyes. "Oh, you daft man! I don't want to stay indefinitely! I was so certain that _you _didn't want to retire any time soon, and I would never want to leave without you. What a fine pair we are!"

Charles joined her laughter, and pulled her into an embrace. "When, my love?"

She thought for a moment. "Would Mr. Barrow be capable of traveling with the family to London for the Season?"

"Yes, I believe he would," replied Charles. "He's had a great deal of independence recently and has performed admirably. My goodness, I never thought I'd say those words," he chuckled.

"Well then, that would be a sensible time for you to retire. We could fix up the cottage … I think I'd like a bedroom downstairs, for when we're _old_," she said, a smile in her eyes. "You could oversee the work being done."

She continued, and for the first time Charles realized she'd thought this all out before today. "I believe I'll recommend Miss Baxter for housekeeper, which I'm sure Her Ladyship will approve of without question. I can use the time during the Season to fully train her. Then, as the family is preparing to return, I'd be free to retire myself."

She smiled fondly. "I've always wanted to recommend Anna, of course, but with the bairn on the way the position of housekeeper will no longer be a possibility for her – not that she minds. I'm sure His Lordship would allow you stay at the house while the cottage is under construction. We would be retiring months apart, but we wouldn't be separated at all."

"It sounds as though you've thought this through, my dear," he said to her.

She backed away from him a bit, and looked deep into his eyes. "I have indeed. I won't be able to bear another Season of you being away, Charles. You need to understand that. If this plan is not accepted by the family, I'll resign immediately, so you'd better convince His Lordship when you see him."

"I had the same thought, my dear. I don't imagine too many problems, other than needing to advertise for a new lady's maid. They'll not need to replace Mr. Barrow with another under butler, not with the way things are changing. And if His Lordship doesn't approve of our plans, we'll _both _resign. _Together_."

Elsie nodded, hugged her great bear of a man once again, and then placed a gentle kiss to the edge of his jaw.

"Elsie … "

"Yes, I know. Let's go back before we spend _much _too long in this stable."

* * *

**A/N: Little known fact: horses really DO love peppermints! **


	14. Chapter Fourteen: At Last

**A/N: My undying gratitude to silhouettedswallow for suggestions on this one. You have her to thank for a bit less of the uncharacteristic hugging and sniveling and for the fact that Charles only leaves the house in ONE car as opposed to popping in and out of three. **

**Find me on Spotify and pick the "Music of the Heart" playlist to listen to this story's soundtrack.**

**Enjoy! Reblogs and reviews always welcome. xx -ChelsieSouloftheAbbey**

* * *

_At last, _

_My love has come along_

_My lonely days are gone_

_And life is like a song …_

_**~"At Last," by Etta James**_

* * *

On their walk back from the stables, Charles and Elsie discussed how to proceed with their plans for the future. They decided that the best course of action would be for Charles to speak with Lord Grantham before Christmas and inform him that Elsie had accepted Charles's proposal of marriage. It would give the family some time to discuss things and determine if they would be comfortable having married heads of staff at the helm downstairs. Elsie was confident after her discussion with the Dowager that there wouldn't be much of a problem, but she also recognized that, despite how much times had changed, the idea of a butler and housekeeper who were married – and to one another at that – was still something that would be discussed within society … and not necessarily with a favorable tone. She didn't want to pressure the family unnecessarily, but she meant what she'd said about leaving immediately if the idea marriage was not supported by the family. It irked her that society at large still thought servants should be treated as children, and she hoped that the respect that Charles had attained with the Granthams would ease everyone's way into a happy transition.

Both Elsie and Charles were hoping to wed as soon as possible; each felt that they'd waited long enough to claim the love that had been brewing for years. They were hoping to have the banns read in the month of January. They'd not yet chosen a specific date for the wedding, of course, but life at the abbey was calmer in February than at other times of the year and so it seemed a February wedding would be easiest to arrange. Elsie hoped they might even be able to finagle a weekend away. _Time to get away from THOSE __thoughts, lass. _

Of course, the matter of where they'd live once they were married would also be an issue, but they would cross that bridge when they came to it. Charles liked Elsie's suggestion of adding a room and a bath to the downstairs of the cottage. The new room could be used as a study for the time being and, when they got to an age where stairs became a bit difficult to manage, the study could be converted into a first-floor bedroom. If they economized very carefully, he thought they could manage it. He proposed making the smaller bedroom upstairs into a guest nursery for the Bates' baby, an idea that touched Elsie's heart. Marriage alone was a dream come true for them both; the arrival of a surrogate grandchild on top of that had put them over the moon.

Having walked very slowly back to the house, Elsie and Charles felt as if they'd made a decade's worth of life-changing decisions in a very short amount of time. They'd held hands until they were well within eyesight of the servants' door, hoping no one would see them but neither willing to let go just yet; they did walk arm-in-arm from church on Sundays, after all. But then reason took hold and they reluctantly released one another, putting some space between them.

"Elsie, your ring," Charles reminded her.

"Oh, my goodness, yes," she replied, tucking it into the front of her dress. "That wouldn't do at all now, would it?" she joked.

Charles brushed her elbow. "No, it wouldn't. But soon … hopefully."

Elsie's heart sang with excitement as Charles reached out and opened the door for her. _I cannot wait._

* * *

The next week passed very quickly. The holiday preparations were all well under way, and Elsie was grateful for the work. With only two days until Christmas itself, she was feeling busy but accomplished. Everything was on schedule: the tree had been cut last week and was up and decorated, all the special food deliveries had arrived on time and unscathed (always a blessing at this time of year), and Elsie had even managed to get to town to finish her shopping. _Yes, things are proceeding very nicely indeed … except for that mountain of gifts you need to wrap._

In her spare moments, Elsie often found herself lost in thought. She had such a wide future ahead of her to consider: retirement, marriage, everything that marriage would involve … _thoughts that are certainly NOT __appropriate for work._ She and Charles recognized a heightened desire between them in their times alone and made the decision to only meet for wine or sherry in the evenings if there were other staff still milling about. From the moment Elsie had felt his ring against her skin, she realized a shift in her thinking: stolen moments would simply not be good enough anymore and any time that they spent sequestered away in the butler's pantry would be decidedly dangerous. She remembered the heat that had coursed through her body when Charles placed the delicate chain around her neck, and he remembered how he'd felt a tremble in his own body when she'd kissed his jaw; yes, they both thought that chaperoned time together was a very wise decision indeed, at least until their engagement could be announced formally. Therefore, they only managed to meet for a nip of sherry once in the week before Christmas, and Mrs. Patmore had been invited to join them. On the other nights, Elsie dashed up to her room to ponder the wedding itself, making notes of things she wanted to have and how she envisioned it all playing out. They were ideas that she knew she'd have to discuss with others eventually but, for now, they could live and blossom in her heart.

Humming to herself, Elsie breezed through her afternoon rounds. If the other staff noticed her unusual happiness, she figured they would chalk it up to the holidays. Elsie was always more cheerful at Christmastime. Despite the sadness and meager provisions of her childhood, her Mam always managed to sneak an orange and a bit of chocolate into their Christmas stockings – to this day, Elsie still had no idea how she'd done that – and the calm and peace of the Christmas story, of the birth of a baby who would bring joy to the world, was always soothing to her. It was a time when her father had always been on his best behavior and, while she never understood why, she had certainly been grateful for it.

And then Elsie had come to Downton and discovered during her first Christmas there that the tall, stern Mr. Carson would steal into the nursery on Christmas Eve and read _A Visit from St. Nicholas_ to the children. She smiled as she remembered how she'd stumbled upon this little gem of knowledge; she had been upstairs in one of the linen cupboards, searching for a misplaced blanket, when her ears had picked up on the timbre of his lovely baritone coming from the nearby room. It was a voice that had been so comforting to her over those first lonely months at the house; the sound of it had always soothed her somehow, resonating deep in her soul in a way she could never have explained. He had been so kind to her from her first day, and that kindness – coupled with his attention to detail, routine, responsibility and confident leadership – had provided Elsie with a feeling of calm, safety and security. It was a feeling she'd craved her entire life, yet she only discovered how much she needed its comforts once they were made available to her.

As soon as she'd realized what she was hearing, she knew that she'd underestimated the esteemed butler. The simple act of reading a bedtime story to three children who were not his own – but whose parents were, in her mind, likely to never do so themselves – spoke volumes about his true inner character. She understood instantly upon hearing that Christmas tale that regardless of the demeanor he showed the outside world, despite his bluster and pomp and circumstance, beneath his stern façade beat the heart of a kind and gentle man. By the time he'd reached the end of the story, Elsie had been surprised to realize she was a little in love with him, something that perhaps had been brewing since just after she'd arrived at the Abbey if she stopped to think on it. She believed at the time that she was a fool, but she had come to a decision that night: her goal from that point forward would be to become housekeeper. It would not only secure the future financially for her and Becky, but would also enable her to spend the remainder of her working days directly alongside this lovely man, almost as his equal. It would be a relationship with him that no one else in the house would share.

Elsie smiled at the memory of that night …

_Standing beside the door, back against the wall, she listened as his lovely voice made its way through the book, the only other sound being that of an occasional page being turned._

" _... and to all a good night," he finished.* _

"_Happy Christmas, Mr. Carson," came a sleepy voice. _

"_Happy Christmas, Milady," came the reply. The sound of a book being closed, and the rustle of blankets …_

"_Oh, __Elsie__! I'm dreadfully sorry!" he whispered, having bumped right into her as he exited the nursery. He grasped her elbow to keep her from falling, and she was thankful for the darkness of the hallway which rendered him unable to see the flush that crept up her neck at his touch. "May I ask what you're doing in this corridor at this time of night?"_

_Elsie stood up straight and looked him directly in the eyes. "I was listening to a very kind man tell a lovely story of Christmas to three girls who may not realize just how special he is," she responded quietly. "And have no fear. Your secret will be safe with me." _

_With that, she'd turned and left. _

Still smiling at the memory, Elsie headed to her sitting room to finish her wrapping. Charles had an appointment to speak to His Lordship tonight – _he should be there at this very moment – _and keeping busy was the only thing that would save her sanity until she heard what decisions had been made.

* * *

One half hour later Elsie heard a knock on her parlour door. "Come in," she called. _Not Charles, then – he'd have just walked right in._

Mr. Bates was at the door, a look on his face that Elsie couldn't quite read. "Mrs. Hughes, I was asked to inform you that you're needed in the library at once."

Elsie's heart stopped for a brief moment. _Oh, my God, is Charles okay? _Her first thought was that things had gone so _very _poorly that Charles was unwell and needed assistance.

Mr. Bates, upon seeing the expression on her face, calmed her immediately. "I don't believe you have anything to worry about, Mrs. Hughes. It was Mr. Carson who found me, and he seemed just fine. In fact … I gathered he'd been drinking a bit."

That stopped Elsie in her tracks. "I'm sorry? He was … _drinking_?"

Mr. Bates just smiled. "He had a faint odor of brandy on his breath, Mrs. Hughes, but nothing that would be offensive or inappropriate. I only meant that, well, I gathered he was sharing a drink with His Lordship. And he asked for you to come up immediately."

_This entire conversation makes no sense!_ _There is no way on earth that man has ever sat down to a drink with His Lordship. What in hell is going on? _Shaking her head, she replied, "Very well, I'll head on up. Thank you, Mr. Bates."

"No trouble at all, Mrs. Hughes."

Elsie made it to the library in record time and found Charles standing outside the doorway waiting for her. As she met his eyes she noted a mischievous glint and was, naturally, suspicious at once.

"There you are – I was starting to wonder," Charles whispered.

"Is everything all right?"

"Why don't you go on in and see for yourself?" Charles said, opening the door.

Elsie proceeded into the library and was immediately attacked by the hug of one very excited Countess of Grantham.

"Oh, Mrs. Hughes – congratulations!" gushed Lady Grantham. "We are so very happy for you both!"

_So he's told them …_ _and it's gone well, I presume?_

Elsie received another hug from Lady Rose, who was gushing about how romantic everything was. Lady Edith did come over to congratulate her, but Elsie shared a look with her that said each woman understood how difficult the whole situation of 'happily ever after' was for Lady Edith so soon after hearing the news of Mr. Gregson's death. _Oh, that poor dear … I do hope that someday she can have wonderfully happy news of her own to share._ Elsie reached out and squeezed Lady Edith's hand, nodding her thanks.

Elsie saw that Lady Mary and Tom Branson were standing a bit farther back. _Wait a minute … why is the ENTIRE family__ here? That wasn't the plan … _Elsie wasn't sure if she was more mortified or pleased that they all seemed to have found out in one fell swoop, and realized that her brain was having trouble keeping up with it all. _But they do seem __happy__… so that's good._

Once Elsie was able to walk further into the library, Lady Mary and Tom both approached her. Tom was quicker, however, giving Elsie yet another hug.

"I'm glad he finally managed it," he whispered into her ear. "I am absolutely delighted for you. Sybbie and I will be delaying our departure until after the wedding, because I wouldn't miss _that _for the world."

Elsie was overcome with emotion, barely able to answer. "Thank you, Mr. Branson," was all she could manage. _Wait … when IS the wedding? _Elsie shook her head, trying to clear her thoughts under the barrage of words and emotions. It was very difficult, and she was wary of the fact that she had no idea at all what details, specifically, Charles had mentioned of their plans.

As Tom released her, Elsie turned slightly and found herself face to face with Lady Mary. Despite the recent conversations she'd had with the woman, Elsie proceeded with trepidation. She knew that Charles was ever-so-protective of the eldest Crawley daughter's feelings and that Lady Mary was equally protective of Charles. If anyone were going to offer words of criticism or misgiving, it would be this woman.

But Elsie realized quickly that she had nothing to fear. Lady Mary's eyes were brimming with tears, and she grasped Elsie's hands in her own. "I offer my congratulations as well, Mrs. Hughes. Carson is ridiculously happy, and we owe that all to you." Then, after a brief pause, she continued with an uncharacteristic smile. "You know how dear he has always been to me, Mrs. Hughes. Do take care of him, won't you?"

Elsie couldn't help but smile at her. "It will be my pleasure, Milady."

Elsie met Charles's gaze across the room and got lost in it for a moment, trying to process his look of awe along with his odd, boyish smile as they mixed with this sturdy, stately posture - the perfect embodiment of the man and butler, presenting themselves together at last. She was chewing her bottom lip furiously, trying to process the last five minutes. The sudden appearance of a brandy snifter in her hand brought Elsie out of her reverie. She looked up and saw Lord Grantham at her side and realized the glass had come from him. "My congratulations as well, Mrs. Hughes," he said, leaning forward to give her a kiss on the cheek, "and a fair warning to you: as soon as my wife heard the word 'wedding' her eyes lit up brighter than our Christmas tree. Good luck reining her in!"

Elsie laughed at that. "Thank you for the warning, Milord."

Looking around the room at everyone who was looking right back at her, Elsie was overwhelmed. Charles noticed immediately and was at her side in an instant, taking her hand. _I'm here … always here to steady you,_ his eyes told her. She squeezed his hand and said, "So, Mr. Carson, I take it our secret is out?"

Everyone laughed heartily and Elsie took a deep breath, knowing some sort of verbal acknowledgement from her was expected. "The support of the family truly means the world to both of us. Mr. Carson has enjoyed a long life here at Downton and with all of you, and I have thoroughly enjoyed my time here as well." She paused, suddenly remembering that she didn't know what specifically what, if anything, Charles had said about their retirement, and she feared she'd let the proverbial cat out of the bag.

He squeezed her hand, understanding her hesitation at once. "As our retirement approaches in just a few months' time, we know it will be a bittersweet moment for us both, but it is comforting to know that we have your blessing as we manage the downstairs in the meantime as (_breathe ..._) Downton's first-ever married heads of staff."

Lord Grantham gave a toast to Charles and Elsie, and everyone then began chatting amongst themselves. Suddenly, Elsie felt a tug at her arm. Turning, she saw Lady Grantham at her side. "We must discuss plans for the wedding as soon as we are through the Christmas holiday," she said gleefully. "I presume you have ideas already?"

Elsie felt like she was twenty again. "Yes, Milady, I have a few notes … nothing too extravagant, of course."

Lord Grantham caught Charles's eye at that moment and simply mouthed, _Good luck with that_.

* * *

As the New Year dawned, fresh snow blanketed the ground. Elsie was delighted, seeing it as a fresh, clean beginning to the year she would finally become Mrs. Carson. She had a meeting scheduled with Her Ladyship that afternoon to discuss wedding plans, and was eternally optimistic that she'd be able to talk the woman into the need to have the wedding she wanted as opposed to the opulent affair she feared Lady Grantham had in mind. The young Ladies appeared to be helping Elsie fight that battle in their own way, however, and she was (for once) very grateful for Lady Mary's stubbornness. All Elsie and Charles wanted was a small church wedding with their closest friends. The family insisted on attending, but that was fine with Elsie because they were, in many ways, Charles's family.

She already knew that the wedding breakfast was to be held in Downton's Great Hall, but Elsie's main goal as she headed into her meeting was to talk Lady Grantham down from the rest of the excesses: too many flowers, too many musicians, over-the-top attire, etc. Elsie and Charles's list of ideas had exactly six items that they felt were necessary to have for the wedding of their dreams:

1\. Wedding dress (not too fancy and definitely not white)

2\. Morning suit

3\. Church

4\. Three attendants (Anna, Mrs. Patmore and Mr. Bates)

5\. Bridal bouquet - chrysanthemums

6\. A honeymoon weekend, if possible

When she arrived, Elsie discovered that Lady Grantham's list went on endlessly, despite any efforts that had been made by her daughters and Lady Rose. Upon leaving the meeting an hour and a half later, the list Elsie had made with Charles included the following "amendments":

1\. Wedding dress (to be custom-made by Miss Baxter from any fabric of Elsie's choosing, at Lady Grantham's expense)

2\. New morning suit for Charles (to be custom-tailored in Ripon by Lord Grantham's tailor, as a gift from His Lordship to Charles)

3\. Church (decoration to be arranged by Ladies Mary, Edith and Rose)

4\. Four attendants (Anna, Mrs. Patmore, Mr. Bates and – at his request – Mr. Branson, who insisted on walking Elsie down the aisle … much to her unspoken joy)

5\. Bridal bouquet - chrysanthemums and roses, with matching rose boutonnieres for the men

6\. A honeymoon week in London (a gift from the Dowager Countess)

_All in all_, she thought, _it could have been worse_.

* * *

Elsie was humming to herself gleefully as she headed down to the staff dinner. She met Charles in his pantry and gave him a peck on the cheek, and they made their way to the servants' hall where they would formally announce their engagement to the downstairs staff. _As if they don't already know something is up_, she thought. But then again, she and Charles always did act like an old, married couple … it's possible they haven't noticed anything amiss at all. _Maybe … but not Mrs. Patmore …_

As it happened, many of the staff were flabbergasted by the announcement.

"Truly? At their age?" whispered one footman, his comment travelling clear across the room to Elsie's keen ear. She wasn't sure from which young man the comment had come, but before she could so much as shoot a stern look in that general direction, she was stunned by Mr. Barrow's forceful reply.

"You should be so lucky to find someone who loves you that much, one day," he said. "So I suggest that if you've nothing congratulatory to say, you keep your opinions to yourself."

Charles just looked at Elsie, eyebrows raised. _Butler material for sure. _She smiled and squeezed his hand, and then turned as they accepted handshakes, hugs and congratulations from everyone. Looking across the table, she saw Mrs. Patmore wiping her eyes with the corner of her apron before heading into the kitchen. The two women shared a look between them that spoke volumes; theirs was a true friendship forged over many years' worth of fights and kindnesses, illnesses and support, and each realized in that moment just how much she valued the other … and how much of a change it would be to not be working together in the future. Elsie saw the cook's smile and brief nod, and smiled in return. _Yes, Mrs. Patmore had seen this coming for sure. _Feeling Charles's hand at the small of her back, Elsie made her way to her seat as their dinner was served.

* * *

The day of the wedding dawned sunny and bright. There was a trace of snow on the ground but it had not stormed in weeks, for which Charles was very grateful. He had woken slowly, then was shocked as his mind cleared and he remembered what day it was. _At last._ He took a few moments to center himself, and then got up from bed.

Mr. Bates was to help Charles dress today, acting as both valet and best man. Never one to need help getting into his livery, Charles would normally have scoffed at the idea of help; today, however, he had certain … things … to discuss with his best man. He had no idea how he'd get through his concerns without going seven shades of crimson, but there was really no way around it: Charles Carson, the man who could wait on princes, earls, and dukes without batting an eyelash, was nervous about his wedding night. _How mortifying_.

The problem was that, contrary to what one might think about men on the stage, Charles had never … well … not entirely, anyhow … and he was wholeheartedly at a loss as to how to proceed. He assumed Elsie would want him to take the lead in those things, but he didn't know if he could manage it. But he knew Mr. Bates (_he said to call him 'John' … perhaps after retirement_) would have some good advice and, if nothing else, lend a kind and non-judgmental ear to Charles's fears.

* * *

Elsie heard the knock on her door as she was putting on her dressing gown. "Come in," she called, expecting Miss Baxter. Instead, a rather pregnant Anna walked into the room.

"Good morning," she said cheerfully. "I am sorry to intrude on what is to likely be your only quiet time of the day, but I heard you moving about and I have something for you." She handed Elsie a lovely gift box, wrapped in cream paper and tied with a blue bow. "I thought it best not to leave it with the other gifts."

"Thank you, Anna. Should I open it now?"

Anna blushed. "Oh, most definitely, Mrs. Hughes," she said with a smile.

Anna's blush made Elsie nervous about what was in the box, and then suddenly she took in its appearance, color, wrapping, and size … and she knew. "Oh, Anna," she stammered, "Um … are you sure?"

Anna giggled. "Mrs. Hughes, you're to be a married woman in about six hours' time. I think you should open the box … and then you can sneak its contents into your suitcase."

Elsie shook her head and smiled at Anna's cheek before gently pulling on the blue bow. As the ribbon fell away she carefully tore open the paper and lifted the top of the box. Easing the tissue paper aside, she grasped the shoulder ribbons and pulled out a beautiful gown, letting its hem cascade toward the floor. "Oh, Anna … it's lovely," she gasped.

The nightgown was pale blue in color. It was made of fine silk, and the neckline was low (_very, very low_) and trimmed in soft, cream-colored lace which also covered the fabric ties on the shoulders. The length would fall to about the middle of Elise's calf. In short, it bore no resemblance to similar items she'd already packed away.

"Do you like it?" Anna whispered.

Elsie gulped, and then forced down her discomfort. _No sense in pretending that this won't be appreciated, Els … by you OR __by that big love of a man. And it will look unbelievable once it's on._

Elsie knew her figure wasn't that of a twenty-year-old anymore, but she also knew that years in service climbing millions of stairs had helped her to maintain a healthy appearance. While it was true she had little life experience when it came to physical intimacies, she wasn't a complete novice. She was a bit afraid of what Charles would think when he found that out, but she hoped he wouldn't hold it against her. Judging from the way his eyes had darkened every time they kissed, she figured she'd be alright.

"Oh, Anna, I think it's the most stunning gift I've ever received. And if anyone else had given me such a thing, I'd have sent it away for sure!" she said with a laugh.

She put the gown gently back in the box and turned to give Anna a warm hug. "Thank you so much, my dear. It is truly lovely."

"You are very welcome, Mrs. Hughes." Then, Anna blushed violently, but continued, "Um … I cannot believe I'm going to say this to you, but I hope you haven't any … fears … about anything?"

Elsie could do nothing but laugh out loud, covering her face with her hands as she shook her head. "Oh, Anna! Are we truly having this conversation? I feel as though _I'm_ supposed to be giving it to _you_!" Then she thought about it, and answered honestly, "A few, perhaps, but not in the way you imagine. In many ways, marriage will be a new experience for both of us, but I have faith that things will work out … beautifully." Elsie felt the flush creep steadily up her chest and over her face. "Contrary to what I am sure is the popular belief downstairs – and I'll deny _ever_ having said these words, mind you – I can't wait."

Anna laughed. "Oh, thank God for that! I was so afraid you'd tell me you were terrified, and I wouldn't be able to reassure you about how, well, absolutely _wonderful _your life is about to become. And with _that_ embarrassing little detail, I'll leave you to your thoughts. You've about an hour if you fancy a leisurely bath. Then Daisy is bringing up a tray for you – be sure you eat, too, because you likely won't have time to eat much at the wedding breakfast – and Miss Baxter will be arriving after you've eaten to start getting you ready."

She paused, and took Elsie's hand in both of hers. "I always felt that if you left Downton I wouldn't know what to do, Mrs. Hughes. But now, with your wedding and retirement and our baby on the way, I feel like we've such wonderful opportunities ahead of us. You and Mr. Carson are the closest thing I've ever had to parents who actually cared about me, you know. Mr. Bates and I are honored to know you will be a constant presence in our child's life. Thank you for that."

"Thank _you_, my darling girl. I can't begin to tell you how proud I am of you both for all you've managed to overcome. It has been such a joy watching you grow into the confident, loving couple that you are. Now get away with you so that I can stop crying for once! It won't do to greet Mr. Carson with puffy, red eyes on today of all days."

Anna rose and smiled. "I'm not sure if he'd notice, Mrs. Hughes … you forget, I've seen your dress." And, with a wink, she left.

* * *

Dressed at last, with most of his worries allayed by an ever-patient Mr. Bates (who snuck him a small gift he and Anna had purchased, and gave him a tip on pampering the soon-to-be Mrs. Carson), Charles took one last look in the mirror. He had to admit, his new morning jacket looked excellent. _Very smart, very smart indeed, old man. _He tucked an envelope in the front pocket and, with a smile on his face, he headed downstairs.

"Mr. Carson! Isn't it time for you to be heading out?" Daisy said, spotting him in the hall.

"It is, indeed. I just have something I need to fetch from my desk."

"Oh, alright then! And, Mr. Carson? I'm ever so happy for you," Daisy said.

Charles turned and looked at her a moment. "Thank you, Daisy. That means a great deal to me."

Charles headed into his office. He went to his desk and opened the drawer, removing the old, hand-carved box from its hiding spot. He lifted the lid and, once again, picked up the items that remained inside. They were all he had left from his childhood, the only tangible things he could claim as his parents' legacy – well, aside from the ring and chain that he'd already passed along to Elsie. Charles transferred the smaller of the two items into a new box, one covered in white leather on the outside and lined in blue velvet. He closed that smaller box and tucked it into his pocket. Closing the lid on the wooden box, he headed downstairs and, finding his suitcase in the corridor, put the wooden box inside of it.

Charles then went in search of Mrs. Patmore.

"Mrs. Patmore, would you be able to do me a favor?" he asked.

"Certainly, Mr. Carson. What do you need?"

Charles extracted the white box and the envelope from his pocket. "When you see Mrs. Hughes this morning, would you kindly deliver these to her? It's very important for her to receive them before leaving for the church."

Mrs. Patmore's eyebrows shot up, but to her credit she said nothing but, "Of course, Mr. Carson."

Smiling, Charles thanked her and headed out to the car.

Despite his chat with Mr. Bates, Charles realized that he was still somewhat nervous. He had no doubts that his marriage to Elsie would be more than one of simple convenience and friendship; no, the fact that they could barely stand to be in the same room without sparks flying was a clear indication that much more lie ahead. Charles was now looking forward to their wedding night with excitement as opposed to downright fear. No, his main concern at the moment was keeping their kiss at the altar chaste and appropriate for the attendees: the entire Grantham family, including the Dowager Countess and Mrs. Crawley, Dr. Clarkson, all members of the downstairs staff, several former staff members (including Gwen and, somewhat to Charles's chagrin but to his fiancée's absolute delight, Ethel), and a handful of business people from the village. It was a testament to how well he and Elsie were loved and respected … and it was a great deal of pressure to be under. He had managed to lay aside concerns about the wedding night itself, but it would be a miracle if he could get through that kiss and (_God help you_) the dancing – holding her in his arms in front of everyone – unscathed.

When he arrived at the car Charles shook hands with Mr. Branson and Mr. Bates and the three of them headed off on what Charles felt was going to be the longest ride of his life. He smiled as the car pulled away. _Here you are then, Charlie … off to declare your love in front of your closest friends. At long last, the day is finally here to make that lovely woman your wife, to voice the words that will allow you to have and to hold her forever. What could __possibly__ be better than this?_

* * *

"Oh, Miss Baxter …" Elsie started to say. _I can't believe it. This is GORGEOUS! _Finding she had momentarily lost the ability to speak, she just turned and gave Miss Baxter an enormous smile.

"You look stunning, Mrs. Hughes. Mr. Carson won't be able to focus on a single thing today except how lovely you are."

"Thanks to your fantastic skill!" Elsie turned in the mirror and admired the look of the dress.

The dress was solid, dove grey in color. The neckline was much lower than her typical dresses, but still modest and appropriate for her age. The edges of the neckline were adorned with embroidery that matched the color of the fabric – subtle, but intricate. The embroidery looked almost like vines, and as it made its way down from the neckline and over the front of the dress it spread into a floral pattern, ending in a point at the waist. The sleeves were long, also fitted, and ended in points over the top of Elsie's wrists, and the points were covered in embroidery that matched the front of the bodice. Tiny, hidden hook-and-eye closures took the place of buttons, giving the dress a smoother look overall. The skirt was pleated, allowing freedom of movement despite having the appearance of being fitted. Elsie had never been more comfortable, and she admired herself in the mirror. She looked … _radiant. _After years of dark blues and black, of dresses that came up to her neck and had been mended year after year to save the expense of purchasing a new one, Elsie reveled in the feel of this one against her body.

The main change, however, was the fact that she wasn't wearing a corset. This had been a secret that only Elsie, Miss Baxter and Anna had shared. The upstairs Ladies had moved to the newer style of undergarments years ago, and Elsie could swear they looked healthier simply because they were able to _breathe_. Figuring that there could be no better time than her wedding day to make the change, Elsie purchased the new brassiere and matching knickers that she needed and wore those for her dress fittings instead of the corset. She knew the difference was evident as soon as she first put on the dress, and found the thought exhilarating. _He's going to notice something different immediately. He's DEFINITELY __going to notice when we dance. _She sighed and smiled a ridiculously happy smile.

She heard Miss Baxter's soft voice saying something to her, pulling Elsie out of her daydream.

"Mrs. Hughes, it has been my absolute joy to make this dress for you. You've been very supportive of me and I feel like this was a small way to pay you back. If I can be even half the housekeeper you have been, I'll feel that I've done remarkably well."

Elsie just squeezed the woman's hands. "Life has not been kind to you, Miss Baxter, but you've more than risen above your past. If I've learned anything over the last year it's that the past haunts us more than we know until we turn and face it head on. Once you're able to do that, things look remarkably brighter."

Miss Baxter nodded. "Thank you for that, Mrs. Hughes. Now, let's sit you down so I can get to work on your hair. Do you have any requests?"

"Yes, I'd like it a bit looser than normal. And I'd like to use these – something blue, which I think I require." Elsie opened a little box on her dressing table and removed the hairpins she'd gifted to Becky all those years ago. She handed them to the maid, saying quietly, "They're very special to me. They were my sister's."

Miss Baxter took them, gently turning them in her hands and noticing their simplistic beauty, commenting on the sparkle of the small, blue stones on each butterfly. "They're beautiful, Mrs. Hughes, and the blue matches your eyes. I'll place them in the back if that's alright. They'll stand out amongst the flowers."

Elsie smiled and nodded, trying once again to rein in her emotions. _My goodness, Els … love has made a crybaby out of you! _

She found, when she thought about it, that she didn't mind one bit. Since losing Becky, Elsie felt like a different woman; since realizing that the man she loved did, in fact, love her right back, Elsie realized she _acted _like a new woman. She liked the change, and she could see that Charles did as well. She felt freer, somehow – free to love as she never had before. She no longer had any secrets to hide, and she couldn't believe how wonderful it felt. Keeping her emotions bottled up for decades had been immensely difficult, and if they were all going to erupt how that she was happy, well ... so be it.

A knock sounded at the door and Anna and Mrs. Patmore entered. Elsie turned and gave them a loving smile, commenting on how lovely they both looked.

"You're sure you are comfortable, Anna?"

"I'm not entirely comfortable, to be honest, but that's nothing new. I'm _fine_, Mrs. Hughes. I saw the doctor two days ago and he assured me that I can handle the wedding. If there are any issues, Mrs. Patmore will be right beside me," she said, smiling at the cook who nodded in agreement.

"I know, but I do worry," replied Elsie, eyeing Anna's belly lovingly before reaching out to lay a hand on it, smiling at the feel of her soon-to-be grandchild moving around. "But I trust the doctor." Growing up on a farm, Elsie knew that it was not unusual for most women to be on their feet and even working up until the day a baby was born, but she was loathe to put Anna and the bairn in any danger. She had to put those apprehensive thoughts aside and trust Anna. Anna's motherly intuition was one thing that, Elsie realized with a pang of sadness, she'd never truly understand.

Sensing a need to change the subject, Mrs. Patmore gushed, "You look lovely! That dress is … well … different, somehow … "

Elsie noted her friend's furrowed brow and had to laugh. A gleam in her eye, she replied, "Yes, well, that's probably because my corset is safely packed away elsewhere."

At that all four women giggled like schoolgirls. "Good for you!" cried Mrs. Patmore, wiping tears of laughter from the corners of her eyes. "I wonder how long it will take Mr. Carson to pick up on that!"

Elsie blushed furiously, but Anna interjected, "Well, one thing's certain … by the time you're asleep he'll have figured it out for sure!" At that, Elsie and the others broke out in joyous laughter.

Elsie was the first to regain her composure, and she looked at each of the three women before her in turn. "I can't thank you all enough for all of your help and support throughout these past months," she said. "It means so very much to me."

"It's been our pleasure," said Mrs. Patmore. "Now, turn around and have a look at what Miss Baxter has managed with your hair. You look absolutely radiant."

Miss Baxter had loosely braided Elsie's hair, but then twisted it up instead of arranging it tightly at the nape of her neck. She secured the twist but had left a few curls to escape down. It had surprised her that the housekeeper's hair was so wavy. The effect of the twist was fuller and less severe than her typical style; it took years off of Elsie's appearance. A sprig of baby's breath was added, and Miss Baxter had arranged the hairpins so that the butterflies appeared to be peeking out from the flowers. Anna added a touch of blush to Elsie's cheeks and a slight touch of lip color, and Elsie was almost ready.

"Do you have everything you need?" Anna asked.

"Well, I've got the something blue in my hair … the new is my dress … I've nothing borrowed, though," Elsie realized.

At that, Mrs. Patmore reached into her pocket. "I've brought you this. It was my mother's," she said quietly, handing Elsie a lovely embroidered handkerchief. "You can tuck it in amongst the stems of your bouquet."

Elsie looked at her friend with such love in her eyes, knowing the cook rarely spoke of her family but that she missed her mother terribly. "Thank you," was all she could manage.

"And Mr. Carson asked me to give you these," the cook added. "He said to be sure you opened them before you left for the church."

Elsie took the box and envelope from her friend, opening the box first. She gasped, unable to believe the beauty of what was inside: a silver pendant, in the shape of a Scottish thistle, a blue stone where the bloom lay. Elsie realized that it matched the stones in the hairpins … and, therefore, would also resemble the color of her own eyes. She just sat there shaking her head, unable to speak. Handing it to Anna so that the others could see, she opened the envelope with trembling hands, eager to read Charles's words.

_My Dearest Elsie,_

_On this, the most wonderful day of my life, it is with much joy and love that I give this pendant to you. It belonged to my mother and, while I have few memories of her, I can clearly remember her wearing it always, hanging from the silver chain that has most recently been holding your ring. The ring, pendant and chain have together been handed down to the women of my family for generations, originally belonging to my great-great-grandmother. Unbeknownst to me, they've been in the care of the Dowager Countess all these years, along with a fourth item which I will show you this evening. They are the only tangible reminders that I have from my parents, and it makes me very happy to place them in your loving care._

_I await your arrival at the church with more love than I could possibly express._

_Ever yours,_

_Charles_

Elsie read the note twice, swimming in a sea of the love she felt for this amazing man. _His mother was of Scottish descent? Why did I not know that?_

"So, something old, still, and a sixpence for her shoe," Elsie heard from somewhere behind her.

Turning, she replied softly, "Oh, I have the something old, I think." Elsie handed Mrs. Patmore the note to read, and retrieved the silver chain from her jewelry box. "Miss Baxter, if you would be so kind as to hang the pendant on this, I'd like to wear it today."

Miss Baxter put the necklace around Elsie's neck and everyone marveled at how perfectly it filled in the space above the dress, looking as though the two had been destined to be worn together.

"Here is a sixpence for your shoe, Mrs. Hughes," said Anna quietly. Elsie tucked it in and rose from her chair. She was still reeling from Charles's wonderful gift but knew they needed to get to the church.

Elsie reached for her coat – a gift she'd purchased for herself, knowing the color would go well with the color of her dress.

"Alright, then? Let's go!" said Mrs. Patmore, and they ushered Elsie downstairs. Anna checked to be sure the men had actually left and Elsie came around the corner. Her friends led Elsie outside, where the chauffeur was waiting to take her to the church. _And to your future, _Elsie thought excitedly.

She'd waited almost twenty years to see Charles waiting for her at the altar of that church, but felt as though the next half hour would be longer than all of them combined.

* * *

**A/N: *Fortunately, the lovely sound of Jim Carter's voice reading this story can actually be found on the ****Christmas at Downton Abbey**** CD set, and has been added to the Spotify list. (IMHO Jim Carter would sound lovely reading the side of my cereal box, but that's a bit beside the point…)**

**I've posted a pic of the pendant on my tumblr.**


	15. Chapter Fifteen: In My Life

Ch 15

**A/N: The penultimate chapter has arrived, and it's a LONG one! I do hope you all enjoy it. It ties up any loose ends, I think ... well, most of them. I did leave one *teensy* thing for Chapter 16.**

**You'll note this is still rated "T"... hats off to those of you who are "M" writers but I, alas, am not.**

**Please pardon any non-traditions that you see in my version of this much-anticipated wedding, as I am most certainly not Alistair Bruce. BUT … this is my head canon, at least until S6 arrives, and I definitely took certain liberties with tradition.**

**Thanks to silhouettedswallow for several things, primarily for reminding me that no rice or grain needed to be thrown at the lovely couple and that "hot tubs" probably weren't around in 1925 (silly semantic issues). If you ever need a beta, she's really quite good at it.**

**Check my Spotify for music: username is chelsiesouloftheabbey, playlist is Music of the Heart**

**(I like the Bette version of "In My Life" better than the Beatles' version ... at least for this story.)**

_But of all these friends and lovers,_

_There is no one compares with you_

_And these memories lose their meaning_

_When I think of love as something new._

_Though I know I'll never ever lose affection_

_For people and things that went before_

_I know I'll often stop and think about them,_

_But in my life,_

_I love you more._

_**~"In My Life," Bette Midler**_

The car pulled up to the front of the church and Elsie gasped – it looked like something out of a fairy tale. Floral arrangements lined the walkway to the door, a dusting of snow remained on the bushes, twinkling in the sun, and a wreath of red and white flowers adorned the doorway. _This is real … this is really happening. _She'd not felt an ounce of nervousness in the entire time leading up to this day – not through Charles's proposal, not through all the planning, not even while telling the staff – but suddenly her heart was beating ferociously in her chest and she felt as if she would faint. Taking a few deep breaths she tried to steady herself, wishing with all her might that Charles were with her in the car instead of meeting her at the altar.*

Anna squeezed Elsie's hand, trying to calm her. When the car stopped Mrs. Patmore and Anna exited first, and Anna headed inside to let Tom Branson know that they had arrived. When they returned, Elsie caught Tom's eye through the car window and noticed an expression she couldn't quite read pass across his face. Tom opened the car door and extended his hand. She grasped it tightly in hers and alighted from the vehicle.

As he looked at Elsie standing before him, Tom found himself speechless. He marveled at this woman who'd been a second mother to him at Downton; she'd listened to his fears and had understood and, in her own way, supported his interest in politics. When he'd had that astonishingly awful mess with Edna, she'd even picked up the pieces and sent the woman packing. But most of all, she had helped him mend his broken heart when he'd lost his beloved Sybil. Seeing her now, looking so beautiful, happy, and – yes – nervous, Tom realized how very, very much he would miss her when he and Sybbie moved to America.

Tom gave her the most encouraging smile he could manage and spoke at last. "You are glowing, Mrs. Hughes. Wait until Mr. Carson sees you."

Elsie nodded, still frightened beyond belief. "So you think I'll do, Mr. Branson?"

"I have no doubt that 'you'll do' as you put it. You'll do very nicely indeed. And from this moment forward, you must promise to call me Tom." He helped her remove her coat and placed it on the seat of the car, tucking her hand in the crook of his elbow. Mrs. Patmore handed Elsie her bouquet before proceeding to the doors with Anna. Elsie was vaguely aware that it was cold out, but she was burning up inside with overflowing emotions. _Just get up there, by his side, and you'll be fine._

As the doors opened, Elsie glimpsed the inside of the church and gasped. _The pews are FULL. Is everyone we've ever met in this church? _The thought did nothing to assuage her fears and Tom, sensing this, gave her hand a little squeeze. "You're very well thought of indeed, Mrs. Hughes … you and Mr. Carson are both loved by everyone."

And just when Elsie didn't think anything else could shock her, the sound of bagpipes made its way out of the church, announcing the start of the processional. _There wasn't supposed to be any music …_

Shaking her head Elsie managed, once again, to hold in her tears, but only by the thinnest margin. She knew immediately whose decision the bagpipes had been. The family had contributed everything else, from the food to the attire and decoration, but Elsie knew in her heart that the music was a gift from Charles, another nod to her Scottish heritage. It was his message that he recognized and honored the individuality she was bringing to their marriage just as he'd always respected it in their working relationship and friendship. The traditional music of her homeland paid homage to her core identity and she knew, as she listened to its hauntingly lovely tune, that Charles truly valued her for _all _that she was – elements of her past included.

Elsie was grateful that Anna and Mrs. Patmore were processing down the aisle ahead of her – she still felt nervous and it gave her a bit more time to center herself. She was breathless upon seeing Charles at the front of the church and spared a moment thinking of how wonderfully handsome he looked, even from the little of him she could see. She noticed that his new morning suit was grey in color, matching her dress almost exactly. Then, as Anna and Mrs. Patmore reached the front of the church, Elsie saw Charles turn slightly, enabling him to watch her every step out of the corner of his eye as she proceeded to finally, at long last, take her place by his side. _Nothing but death will ever separate us again. _It was the best feeling she'd ever had. The beautiful tones of the bagpipes soothed her, and when the tune changed from attendants' to bridal processional, she nodded to Tom: _I'm ready …_

As her eyes latched onto Charles's gaze Elsie felt the remainder of her anxiety completely disappear. He was there, waiting for her, strong and sure as he'd always been. She felt as if they were the only two people in the church. Elsie found it strange that the sound of the bagpipes seemed to be fading as she got closer to them, but a new song – one that she felt was being sung to her by Charles himself, even though his slightly-parted lips were unmoving – had taken up residence in her mind and heart.

Finally arriving at the altar, Tom leaned over to whisper in her ear, "Today, the best days of your life are about to begin." He squeezed her hand gently and then handed it to Charles, silently taking his seat and sending up a prayer of thanks that Elsie and Charles had made their way to one another at last.

Standing at attention for years had done nothing to prepare Charles for the sensation of standing in front of the church today. As butler it had always been his job to fade into the background, appearing when needed and invisible when not. But today he could feel everyone's eyes on his back as he tried to keep his hands steady. Looking at Mr. Bates standing by his side, he gave a small smile that was returned in kind. _This is ridiculous! _Charles expected to feel a myriad of things today, but the worries he'd had about the kiss and the dancing were overshadowed completely by his nervousness in standing before just about everyone he knew. He needed Elsie there, beside him, before he'd feel truly calm. The blessing was that he wasn't focused on the wedding night anymore – he wasn't completely sure he'd make it through everything that was to come before it.

Suddenly – _finally! _– he heard the church doors creak open. Even though he'd been expecting them, the sound of the bagpipes startled him. He turned slightly and saw Mrs. Patmore and Anna making their way slowly up the aisle. He caught a glimpse of Tom Branson standing just outside the doors Charles knew Elsie was by his side, but he couldn't actually _see _her and for a brief, ludicrous moment he wondered where she was. But, just then, the other ladies walked forward a bit and he caught her presence out of the corner of his eye and let out a breath he didn't even realize he'd been holding. Charles hadn't actually doubted she'd come, but feeling and seeing her presence at the church calmed him at last.

Charles turned his body a bit, enabling him to keep his eyes on his bride. He realized that wasn't exactly the way things were done, but the way he figured it he only had one wedding and, by God, he was going to watch his beloved Elsie walk this path, the one he realized he'd been waiting at the end of for the last twenty years. One look at her face told Charles everything he needed to know: _She's nervous. You're going to have to be the strong one, Charlie old boy._ He tried to put as much comfort and love as possible into his gaze as he watched her move ever so slowly toward him.

Charles couldn't hear the bagpipes anymore; instead, he was listening to a new song that was singing in his heart, one that began its beautiful melody the moment his eyes locked on Elsie's. He didn't notice the tear that slid down his cheek, he didn't hear the words that Tom Branson whispered in her ear, and he barely heard the Reverend Travis telling him to take Elsie's hand as Mr. Branson put it in his. She was beside him at last, forever, and Charles reveled in the fact that nothing but death would ever separate them again.

The ceremony passed in the blink of an eye. Charles's voice carried his vows across the church; Elsie said hers softly enough that only the attendants and the front row of family members could hear. Neither of them noticed the Dowager smirk as Elsie got to the word "obey," but Charles did involuntarily chuckle. And then, finally, the crucial moment had arrived: the kiss. Looking into each other's eyes, Charles and Elsie had a brief, silent conversation as they were accustomed to doing:

_I love you._

_I love you too._

_Be careful, Elsie._

_Remember who is sitting in this church, Charles._

With a smile he reached forward and took her face in his hand, and Elsie pressed her cheek to his palm so gently that no one else would even notice. Each of them had their lips barely parted, but it was enough: as he brushed his lips ever-so-gently against hers, Charles and Elsie exchanged a sweet breath, as if their souls were connecting at last. It was the most powerful kiss they'd exchanged in all their time together.

"I love you," Elsie whispered.

"It's always only been you," Charles whispered back.

And with that, they clasped hands and Elsie found her bouquet being handed back to her. As the recessional music of the bagpipes started Charles and Elsie Carson made their way back down the aisle, joined together as they always were meant to be. They snuck in one more (not so chaste) kiss outside, then hugged and shook hands with Anna, Mrs. Patmore and Mr. Bates before preparing to receive and thank their guests.

As guests started pouring out of the church, Elsie was ever so grateful that Anna mentioned having a hearty breakfast.

"We're going to be here for quite a while, Mrs. Carson," her husband whispered.

"Yes, I'm so glad Anna encouraged me to eat a hearty breakfast," she smiled back, loving the sound of the 'Mrs. Carson' that came from his lips. One look at Charles's face told her that Mr. Bates hadn't given him the same sage advice.

Her laugh could be heard all the way back inside the church.

The family and most of the staff had returned to the house and yet guests were still pouring out of the church. Charles and Elsie were amazed at the outpouring of love and friendship they'd received: it truly seemed as if the entire town had come to the wedding ceremony. Elsie met two butlers that she'd heard Charles mention in passing – one of whom traveled from London for the event. Charles learned the names of several women with whom Elsie did business in town: one who makes the finest lace, another who bakes the chocolate shortbread that Elsie often has tucked away in her desk for when they take tea in her parlour.

At the very end of the line, Charles saw a man he'd never laid eyes on before. Elsie was chatting with the woman just in front of him, and when she bid the woman good-bye she looked up and gasped. She couldn't believe it.

"Hello, Elsie," came the man's soft voice.

"Joe." Elsie was stunned.

_Joe? Joe BURNS? _Charles thought. _What in hell is HE doing here?_

Joe took Elsie's hands in his and leaned forward to press a kiss to her cheek. "You look lovely, my dear," Joe said quietly, a clear look of admiration in his eyes.

Elsie wasn't sure what to say. She could sense Charles's discomfort (_and, oh yes, some anger …_) but knew she could do nothing to address it while still holding a polite conversation.

Charles stood by in horror, trying his level best not to say anything that would offend his bride.

"Thank you," she managed. "However did you know?"

Joe smiled. "I'm expanding the farm back home and I was in town last week to consult with one of your local farmers. I heard talk in the local of a big, upcoming wedding. Once I heard the word "housekeeper," I knew it must be you. I had to come and see for myself … had to meet the man who finally managed to get Elsie Hughes to the altar."

Elsie just stood there, not knowing what to say. Memories of her courtship with Joe came flooding back; much later, she'd think it strange that none of those memories involved the second time he'd proposed but rather the whirlwind, passionate courtship of the first. Both of them had been so young, so sure they knew what it meant to be in love, so sure they'd be each other's only one … and then came the heartbreak, as Elsie told Joe she couldn't marry him, that she needed steady work and income and that she hoped he'd be happy one day. She'd chosen her way, and she'd shattered his heart. When he returned the second time she'd felt a familiar tug, but by then she was so in love with Charles that there had really been no question at all she'd turn him down again.

Elsie realized now that over the decades she'd spent living and working with Charles she'd developed feelings for him that completely eclipsed anything she ever had with Joe. But the memories still flooded her mind as if everything had happened forty _days _ago instead of forty years in the past. _Oh, Elsie … this is not the time._

To their credit, neither Joe nor Charles commented on Elsie's sudden, flushed appearance. The two men just stood there, sizing each other up, neither saying a word for a full minute. Elsie felt as though time had stopped, and she was terrified of what was about to happen; she was frightened for Joe, because Charles had thunder in his eyes, and she was terrified for herself, because she knew that any unspoken questions Charles may have had about the depth of her relationship with Joe had just been answered. _Damn._

But by the grace of God and a little luck, Joe just turned to Charles and extended his hand.

"Congratulations, Mr. Carson. I must say, I was never sure why my Elsie turned me down that second time, but I can see now that I didn't stand a chance."

Charles bristled at the words 'my Elsie,' but managed to calm himself down by taking a few deep breaths, feeling some of his anger leave him at last. Shaking Joe's hand firmly, Charles nodded.

"Thank you, Mr. Burns."

Joe turned back to Elsie, who was clearly uncomfortable with the entire situation. "Take care of yourself, Els. I wish you many days of love and happiness ahead."

Elsie looked at Charles apprehensively, but he just gave her a loving smile. Turning back to Joe, she said, "Thank you, Joe. I appreciate that. This really is where I was always meant to be."

A look of sadness passed across Joe's face, but Elsie suspected she was the only one who noticed it. Even after all these years, she still knew him so well. He kissed her cheek once again and bid them farewell.

Elsie took Charles's hands in hers, raising them to her lips. "My darling, darling husband … I believe we've a breakfast to attend." And, after a pause, she chuckled. "And some dancing to do!"

Charles just looked at her adoringly then leaned over for a kiss. This was no innocent kiss; this was a kiss full of all the passion he could muster, his own wordless testament to how blessed he felt that Elsie had chosen to spend the rest of her life with _him_.

She returned the kiss with equal measure and, after a few minutes, managed to pull herself away.

"It's always been you, Charles … always."

He nodded, tears in his eyes as the rest of his discomfort evaporated.

Elsie and Charles arrived at the house, where Mr. Barrow was waiting outside. The car pulled around and he opened the door. "Welcome back, Mr. and Mrs. Carson. His Lordship and Her Ladyship would like for you to enter through the front, if you please."

Charles was noticeably uncomfortable with the idea, but Elsie nudged him. "Oh, get on with it! One time isn't going to kill you."

As they walked into the Great Hall, they saw all the staff standing at attention. Lord and Lady Grantham approached them, him offering a handshake to Charles and her giving a kiss to Elsie's cheek.

"We extend our congratulations once again, Mr. and Mrs. Carson. It is our pleasure to host your wedding breakfast this afternoon. Now, I believe some dancing is in order?" Lady Grantham said.

Charles looked at Elsie and she placed her hand in his. "Shall we, Mrs. Carson?"

"I thought you'd never ask," she replied.

Charles led his wife onto the dance floor, trying to keep a respectable distance between their bodies, aware of the eyes of all their subordinates following them as they moved to the center of the hall. As the music began, he placed his hand on Elsie's waist, and she heard his breath hitch, causing her to shoot him a mischievous smile. _Ahhh … he's figured THAT out, then. Good …_

Charles raised his eyebrows as he noticed the way the dress felt against her skin as opposed to against the whalebone of the corset he'd assumed would be there. He swallowed hard as he saw his wife's wink. _This woman is going to drive me mad!_

Smiling at one another, they waltzed across the floor as if they'd been dancing together their entire lives when, in point of fact, this was the first dance they'd ever shared. The Servants' Ball had always opened with dances with Lord and Lady Grantham, but then Elsie and Charles would spend the remainder of those evenings in a mostly supervisory capacity, occasionally dancing with other members of the family but never with each other. They reveled in the feel of being in one another's arms now, each proud that they managed to keep their actions respectable in front of everyone who was watching.

As the afternoon wore on, Elsie and Charles made their way through the crowd, thanking everyone once again for joining them on their special day. At one point, it dawned on Elsie that Anna was conspicuously absent. She approached Mr. Bates, and quietly asked if Anna was alright.

"She's fine, Mrs. Carson," he replied, noticing how she smiled at the new name. "I sent her for a lie down in one of the maid's rooms because her feet were getting sore. Just a month and a half to go now, according to the doctor."

Elsie nodded. "Yes, I'm surprised she made it this long before heading up, actually. Do watch out for her while I'm gone, please."

Mr. Bates just nodded. "I plan to, Mrs. Carson. And thank you for your concern. You mean the world to my wife … to both of us."

"Mrs. Carson, it's almost time to leave," came Mrs. Patmore's voice. Elsie moved away from Mr. Bates and approached the cook, who said, "You should head up to change, you know."

"Yes, thank you," she replied. "Care to help me get out of this dress? Anna's resting."

"It would be my pleasure. Daisy seems to have everything in hand."

Elsie found Charles and told him she was heading up to her room to change. "We need to leave soon if we're to make our train," she whispered in his ear. He nodded, smiling at her as she walked away.

"You know, I'd be surprised if you weren't able to retire soon yourself," Elsie mused as she and Mrs. Patmore headed toward the servants' stairs. "Daisy seems to always have everything in hand lately. You've done such a remarkable job with her, you know."

The cook nodded. "Who'd have thought, though, when she first arrived?" She stopped outside Elsie's bedroom door, her eyes meeting those of her friend. "You're probably right about my retirement, you know. With the two of you gone it will be lonely here … different. It will be the end of an era, and my old bones are tired indeed. I'm hoping I make it to the end of the year, to be perfectly honest."

Elsie gave her a brief hug. "It's funny … I never thought I'd be able to retire, and for many years I wasn't sure I'd even want to. But life sure can change in the blink of an eye," she said. "Ach, that's enough serious talk for one day … I need to change into something more appropriate for a train ride. No sense being late for my own honeymoon!"

Mrs. Patmore laughed out loud. "Heavens, no! Whatever you do, Elsie Carson, don't you dare keep that man waiting any longer than you already have."

Elsie blushed, heading into the room. "Believe me, I don't intend to!"

Amidst cries of "We'll see you soon!" and a rather loud "Don't do anything I wouldn't do!" from their favorite cook, the car departed, its occupants reveling in a few moments of blessed silence as they pulled away from the house. Charles leaned over to fix a stray piece of hair that had fallen into Elsie's face, tucking it back into the twist from which it had fallen.

Elsie looked at her husband with unabashed love in her eyes. "I cannot believe we're here at last," she said. "I never dreamed I'd be sitting here next to you as your _wife_. Not in my wildest imaginings did I ever think it could actually happen."

Charles just sighed deeply, feeling more content than he ever had in his life. He put his arm around her shoulder and pulled her toward him, placing a kiss to the top of her head. "Nor did I, Elsie. I've been looking forward to this day forever. And now a week in London with you, a chance to see it all through your eyes. You've not spent much time there, have you?"

"Not really. I've only been a couple of times, and even then I was usually working," Elsie replied. "I'm counting on you to be my guide this week, my dear." She looked up at Charles and furrowed her brow, wondering why she'd felt him stiffen, suddenly seeming uncomfortable by her words.

"Elsie," he said softly, "I have to confess something to you." He hesitated, and Elsie unconsciously began niggling her bottom lip in concern. "Um … well, you see … in some ways, I think I'm going to be counting on you to be my guide this week as well," he whispered. "Particularly … tonight."

She just looked at him, confused for a moment, but then as she saw the pleading look in his eyes she understood. "Oh, um … I see." She smiled softly, "Well, then … " Another pause. "You mean you've _never _… ? Not even with Alice?"

Charles just shook his head as she looked at him in wonder. "No, never. I'd thought it best to wait, you know … and then she was gone … and then there was no one else … and then, of course, I met you."

"Well, then," repeated Elsie softly. She knew after their run-in with Joe that Charles had made certain assumptions, and she felt the need to get everything out in the open. "I don't have all that much experience to fall back on either … you should know it was only once, and it was a _very_ long time ago." She hesitated, then spoke so quietly he had to strain to hear her. "The feelings I had then aren't even in the same universe as the ones I have for you. I think this is going to be a new experience for us both … we'll guide each other, alright?"

Her words settled him as she'd hoped they would. As they pulled up in front of the train station, Charles led Elsie from the car to the platform, his hand firmly placed at the small of her back as the chauffeur transferred their bags to the porter. There were two other couples seated in their car, but that was fine with Elsie. It forced them to keep a sense of propriety in their behavior. She could feel a sense of something building between them since they'd danced together at the house, and it had flamed even more strongly by the end of their conversation in the back of the car. Nodding to the others and wishing them a good afternoon, Elsie and Charles took their seats, close enough for their arms and legs to be touching. Elsie smiled at the glint of silver that graced her finger, the outward symbol that their physical closeness wouldn't be questioned by anyone. They sat quietly for most of the ride, each eagerly looking forward to the moment they'd be alone at their hotel in London.

It was a _very _long train ride.

The gentleman at the reception desk handed over a key; a bellhop delivered the bags to their room. Charles and Elsie had the foresight (and self-control) to stop into the restaurant adjacent to the hotel for a leisurely dinner, making small talk as they held hands across the table. Charles had managed a few bites at the house, but they were both starving after the train ride. A bottle of champagne, a delicious meal and a shared dessert later, they made their way back to the hotel.

As soon as the door to their room closed, Charles and Elsie fell into one another's embrace. No words had been spoken but suddenly they both realized that experience, or a lack thereof, wasn't going to matter at all: they were on equal footing in this new way of being together, an experience that was instantly so natural to them both yet would prove transcendental beyond their wildest imagination.

Buttons were reverently, ever-so-slowly undone as fingertips grazed gently across pale skin, chased by soft, burning kisses; faint rustlings of fabric were heard as layer upon layer of cloth was lovingly peeled away, soft sounds emitting from cotton and silk that cascaded down into pools on the floor – pools that would go unnoticed until morning in uncharacteristic, messy piles. Fully realizing the value of their well-developed ability to communicate non-verbally, Elsie marveled at the blessing of her husband's ever-present attention to detail, while Charles appreciated more than ever his wife's calm but intense way of gently, lovingly caring for him.

Time seemed to slow as they reveled in a new, heightened awareness of their senses: each finally seeing to the minutest detail all the physical aspects of the other; each hearing the other's slight gasps, sighs, and heartbeat; each touching the other with hands that felt as though they'd finally found their way home. They were amazed – _thrilled_ – at the power of innately understanding and anticipating the other's reactions as they discovered new, wonderful ways of kissing, holding, and caressing. Both were astonished at the effects caused by whispered adorations. They noticed a heightened awareness of and appreciation for one other's bodies, of a kiss placed here, or a nuzzle there.

Everything was familiar, yet new; peaceful, but exhilarating.

They realized at some point that the songs they'd always heard playing in their own hearts had just been background music; the tunes were still familiar, but until tonight the music had been stilted, perhaps lonely, and definitely unfinished. Now each could hear those lonely notes finding their way among the delicate steps of this _new_ dance, meandering in delicate trails around one another until finally harmonizing into one intricate and beautiful score. They finally found in each other the part of themselves that had always been missing, minutes turning into hours as stars blinked in the far-away London sky.

The music built slowly but steadily, singing its love through tender ministrations and loving touches, in powerful looks, in heated kisses, and in passionate utterances that neither ever expected to feel pass their own lips or hear spoken in their ears. And just when neither thought the song could become any sweeter, the sound of the symphony they'd been creating reached one crescendo, then another, amazing them both with its tender, loving power before slowly releasing them, the sound gradually fading away into peaceful, reverent words of love that were whispered between soft kisses as Elsie and Charles lay in each other's arms and drifted off to sleep – together, at last.

Charles awoke slowly, a soft but unfamiliar sound coming to his ears. He opened his eyes, noting the ray of sunlight creeping in the window. As he started to pull his mind from its deep slumber, he remembered that he was not in his room at Downton, but rather in a luxurious hotel in London, in an enormous bed that was soft and comfortable. Everything came back to him in a rush, and with a blissful sigh he realized that the unfamiliar noise he'd heard was coming from his wife, who was currently curled up next to his body, her head resting on his chest as she softly snored. Charles reached over and placed the gentlest kiss to her head before drifting back to sleep.

Hours later, Charles woke again. He looked over to where Elsie lay, astonished that she was, in fact, still sleeping. _Didn't take us long to break THAT habit, he thought with a smile. Although we WERE very tired. _Moving silently as he was accustomed to doing, Charles rose from the bed and headed to the large en-suite bathroom.

He was happy to see an enormous bathtub, a luxury that the servants' quarters at Downton did not provide. He ran a bath and stretched out, his muscles pleasantly sore after last night's … activities. He shook his head, remembering how much worry he'd had only to have it all vanish in one blink of Elsie's darkened, lovely eyes. He reclined in the tub, reliving the wonder of those precious moments and thinking of how happy he was that they'd share many, many more of them over the rest of this lifetime.

Elsie uncurled herself and opened her eyes, remembering at once where she lay. She reached over to where her husband had slept, and was startled to find him missing. She realized a second later that he had been in the bath as she listened to the water draining and the sounds of him dressing and then brushing his teeth. She spared a moment to think of how new and wonderful those sounds were … whispers of the familiar nature of marriage. She thought it was funny that she'd considered the bigger aspects, such as living together in the cottage and retiring every night to the bed they would share, but she hadn't spared a thought for the tiny details that would fill the cracks in between: clothes hanging together in the wardrobe, aftershave and razor alongside bottles of lotion, cooking for each other, quiet nights by the fire as they read – sometimes aloud to one another, sometimes not. Elsie found that those images filled her heart even more than the passion of the previous night … but only just.

She sighed and laughed to herself as she remembered how apprehensive Charles had been on the ride to the train station, how concerned he'd been that he'd not be able to please her in that most intimate aspect of their marriage. She remembered how she'd been afraid to tell him she was slightly less novice than he, and then shook her head as she remembered it had not mattered one bit; she and Charles had been dancing around one another for decades without ever touching (much), and that familiarity and their slowly building love had washed over them last night – each touch a new feeling, each whisper of encouragement or guidance a gift, each discovery they made a blessing as they learned the final steps of that dance. Elsie found that she was looking forward to perfecting that dance as the years went on. _Most definitely …_

She languished in bed for a while, listening to Charles move about in the next room. She was puzzled a few moments later when she heard the water running once more.

"Good morning, love," came his voice from the doorway. Elsie sat up in bed, a bit startled, and turned to face him. His eyebrows shot up as he saw the sheet fall away from her, and she blushed and gathered it up.

"No, please ... don't," he said, shaking his head. "Please."

She raised an eyebrow, and scooted over to the edge of the bed to get up.

Charles approached her, intending to give her a soft 'good morning' kiss; somehow, it lasted longer than that.

"Good morning, Mr. Carson," she said, breaking away as she listened to the water. "Why does the entire room smell of lavender?"

"Ahhh … that is for you, Mrs. Carson." _Oh, I love saying that._ "It's a new bath foam, a suggestion from a good friend who felt it was the duty of the best man to educate me on ways to ... ahem ... _pamper_ _my_ _wife_." He led her into the bathroom, where Elsie's eyes fell upon a deep tub full of very inviting looking bubbles. "Um … how do you feel this morning?"

Elsie chuckled. "Well, I am understandably a bit sore, which I certainly don't mind _at all_, and languishing in that tub seems like a fantastic idea. I believe I've discovered a couple of muscles I didn't know I had … "

Charles laughed, "As have I. It may be helpful to … exercise them more frequently in the future?"

Elsie wrapped her arms around him for a moment, sighing most happily. "I wholeheartedly agree, Mr. Carson. We have _years _to make up for, after all."

Charles helped her into the tub, wishing now that he'd waited for her instead of going first … _You've got all the time in the world, Charlie boy … no need to rush her now. _"May I wash your hair?" he asked softly.

Elsie was surprised at the request, but nodded. Charles pulled a chair in from the bedroom and placed it behind where she reclined in the tub. He marveled at the length of her hair as he untangled the mess it ended up in last night and brushed it out slowly as she relaxed. He loved its fullness and softness, and thought for a moment of all he'd been missing never having touched it all these years. He'd always thought Elsie attractive, goodness knows, but running his fingers slowly through the tresses made her seem so much more feminine to him, and it pleased him greatly to realize that this was one experience (_one of many …_) that would be his and his alone.

"Are you comfortable?"

"Mmm-hmm. This is lovely," she said as she sat forward, tipping her head back while he poured warm water through her hair. She reached for the soap but found he already had some in his hands. "Where did that one come from?"

"It was part of the 'how to care for your wife' package," he chuckled. "I do believe that Mr. Bates-"

"John, dear," she interrupted.

"Yes, I do believe that _John _figured that, due to the autumnal nature of our romance, a bit of time-saving suggestions were needed," he chuckled. "Not that I'm complaining – I'm thoroughly enjoying every moment of pampering you, love."

"Remind me to thank the man," Elsie sighed, relishing the feeling of his hands massaging her scalp. "I could get used to this."

Charles rinsed her hair thoroughly, putting kisses on her shoulders and the back of her neck between each cupful of water.

_Sigh … I suppose we have to eat at some point. _"I'm going to leave you for a bit, love, and nip downstairs to find us some breakfast. You relax, and I'll be back as soon as I can." Standing up, Charles dried his hands and rolled his shirtsleeves back down.

"Please hurry," she purred, her eyes drowsy once again as she reclined in the tub again.

"No worry there," came his soft reply.

Elsie drained the tub and got out, immediately cursing herself for not having actually brought any clothing into the bathroom. She wrapped in a towel, leaving her hair unbraided so that it could dry in the warm air by the fire. When she opened her suitcase, she came upon the lovely gown that Anna had given her. _Oh, why not? _She put it on, amazed at how well it hugged her body. _God bless you, Anna …_

Elsie hung her clothing and reached for Charles's bag, noticing it lay open already. She starting hanging his things, and when she reached in to pull out his pajamas (_new ones for him too, I see …_) a lovely wooden box fell out of the bundle. She was intrigued, but she didn't want to snoop. She remembered him mentioning another heirloom that went along with the pendant and ring that were now hers. She took a moment to appreciate the skill involved in the carving of the wood, its surface resembling soft waves of water that ran with the grain of the wood. She lay it on his nightstand, figuring he'd show its contents to her when he was ready.

Charles finally made his way back to the room, almost dropping the tray as his eyes fell upon his wife in her new … attire. She took the tray from his hands without saying a word, smiling her thanks at the huge amount of food it contained: eggs, toast, rashers of bacon, bangers and tea.

Neither of them complained later that the food had gone cold by the time they got around to eating it.

As morning turned to afternoon, Elsie managed to convince her husband that it would be a good idea to actually get dressed. She wanted to see some of the city while they had the chance and had an unspoken desire to walk through its streets holding his hand. After years of loving him from afar, followed by months where most touches were not only forbidden in public but ill-advised due to the effect they produced, she felt a push to take advantage of their relative anonymity in the city. There would be people they didn't know milling about at museums, in the park, in restaurants and more, and no one would be paying any attention to her or Charles. It was an unusual situation in which to find themselves; they were two people who'd spent most of their lives inside and surrounded by the same people day in and day out. She couldn't wait.

They spent time walking along the river, stopping in at a couple of shops to purchase gifts for the Bates and for Mrs. Patmore, wanting to thank them for their support over these last months and for participating in their wedding. Elsie also insisted on purchasing a gift for Tom Branson, and Charles selected some soft candies for Miss Sybbie. _Of course he'd pick out the sweets, _Elsie thought. It was a peaceful, restful afternoon, very unlike most they'd spent over the course of their lives. Both Charles and Elsie felt the need to take in everything about this precious time away, knowing they'd need to file it in their minds for those times when the hustle and bustle of their day-to-day lives became too much; they were intentionally making memories that would see them through until the day they could both retire.

"Charles, I think I need to sit for a while," Elsie said. "It's about time for tea, and I could use a hot cuppa." While it was a clear, sunny day, it was definitely chilly out, and Charles wholeheartedly agreed. They found a small tea shoppe, and took a relatively secluded table in the back. When the server brought the tea and some sandwiches, Elsie automatically poured both cups as she'd done for years, allowing Charles to sit back and watch her silently. She looked up at him, catching his gaze, and smiled.

"You are the loveliest thing I've ever seen," Charles said quietly. "I've had so many moments today where I've almost had to pinch myself. I can't believe we're here, together, _married_, and that it's not a dream."

Elsie blushed at the comment, her eyes misting as she nodded. "Me, too." She paused, then added, "It's a dream come true for me too, you know … all those years wondering, loving you secretly, then trying to discover if you felt the same, trying to lead you into I don't even know what … " she trailed off.

"I needed it," he said wryly. "When I think of all the wasted time … "

"No." Elsie shook her head forcefully, brushing the tear from the corner of her eye. "Not one word, Charles Carson. No regrets. Our time has not been wasted. We've had over twenty years of knowing each other, of living together, many of them working side by side and presiding over what I privately consider as our own brood. We now have more wonderful years ahead of us, where we'll spend time discovering new things and new ways of being together. I won't be able to bear it if you spend them wishing for what might have been instead of looking ahead at what can be."

Charles sat back and looked at her in awe, then finally nodded. "Okay. I promise."

Elsie reached over and squeezed his hand, and they each spent a few quiet minutes eating and sipping their tea. Elsie took in the appearance of the shop, its spotless interior registering in the housekeeper part of her mind. Charles spent his time taking in his wife's appearance, noticing that she looked … different. _I can't quite put my finger on it …_

Elsie saw him staring. "Penny for them, Mr. Carson?"

He smiled. "I was just trying to figure out … there's something different about you, but I can't think of what it might be."

Elsie smiled. "It could be the result of the best night's sleep I've had since I was a wee babe," she said softly. She was proud of the flush that crept up his face. _Oh, yes … very proud indeed of that …_

"Perhaps. I do think we'll both be looking a bit … healthier … in the future. How ironic, given our ages," he chuckled.

Placing her tea aside, Elsie addressed the topic she'd been keeping tucked in the back of her mind until the wedding was over. "Charles, I have something to discuss with you."

His mind immediately went to all things awful: health scares, her past, unhappiness. She quickly calmed his fears. "Nothing bad. Actually, it's something rather wonderful," she said.

"Oh?"

"You may remember me talking about a certain farm in Argyll … " she began.

Charles's eyes darkened, and he looked down at the table, thinking back to her story and trying to stuff down the feelings of helplessness and rage that her story had produced in him. "Yes, how could I not?" he said quietly.

Elsie took a deep breath. "Well … you see … I've sold it."

Her husband's head shot up. "You've _what_?"

"I've sold it."

"But … Elsie, you said nothing to me about this."

"No, I didn't," she replied, now nervous that he was upset with her … she'd expected a happy reaction to the news, given how it would change their financial future. "I meant it as a wonderful surprise, actually."

Charles noticed the faint break in her voice, something no one else would have even picked up on, but he knew his wife so very well. "Elsie, I'm not upset, exactly … just puzzled."

"I had to get rid of it. I decided the day I went back that selling would be the first thing I did when I returned. On my next half-day I spoke with Tom Branson and asked his advice. He put me in contact with a real estate agent who handled the entire process. I know what the farm was worth years ago, and the buyer paid significantly _more _than that figure – I gather he wants to develop it somehow, divide it up. I couldn't care less, really, as long as the graveyard remains undisturbed." She rattled off a figure to Charles, who was shocked at the amount.

"Very well done, my dear!" he exclaimed.

"It changes things for us considerably, doesn't it?" She paused. "I feel wonderful about that, like I'm actually contributing to our future."

Charles looked at her, suddenly aware that they'd ventured into a territory that was about more than just the sale of a property she'd come to despise. "Elsie, how can you possibly say that?"

She looked up at him, incredulous, but managed, "How can I not? Charles, I brought nothing to this partnership! Without your savings, your investments, the cottage that _you _provided, where would we be?"

Charles shook his head, overwhelmed with sadness for the guilt she still carried but unable to fathom how she had come to such a gross misunderstanding of their situation. "My darling Elsie, without _your _patience, _your _kind words, _your _hand reaching out to me that day at the beach, where would we be? The money, while necessary, would be inconsequential without _you_, without your steady push and influence."

Elsie pondered his words, finally understanding what he was trying to convey. She knew it was true, knew he'd never have come to her offering a relationship, a marriage, if she'd not been working away at him for years. And she was immensely proud at his happiness over the price she'd gotten for the farm.

"Perhaps," she allowed, squeezing his hand in hers. "I do know how much this changes things for us," she said again, "and I'm happy about that. I'd like to discuss some details for the cottage renovations while we're here in London, away from the distractions of work and the family. Then when we return, and you retire, we'll have a plan to move forward."

"I can't imagine anything happier than planning our future … you must know that."

Elsie looked at him suddenly. She had an amused glint in her eye that made Charles incredibly wary, and he noticed with a start that the toe of her shoe was making its way up his calf. "Nothing happier at all? I wonder … how long, in your estimation, will it take us to walk back to our hotel, Charles?"

Charles laughed, tossed a couple of coins on the table, and stood. He held his hand out to her and helped her from her chair, then assisted as she put her coat on. "Too long, if you ask me."

Much later, Elsie and Charles were relaxing in their luxurious bed, his back to the pillows against the headboard and her back against his chest. Remembering something, she turned to look at him. "Charles," she began, "what is in that lovely, wooden box I found in your bag?"

She felt his "Hm … you didn't look?" as it reverberated through his chest into her back. He reached over to the nightstand and took the box, handing it to Elsie.

"No," she replied simply. Then, "It looked like it might be something … personal. I didn't want to pry."

She felt rather than saw his smile. "Go ahead, open it."

Elsie lifted the lid back and gasped. "Oh, Charles … " she said, lifting out a very lovely, very old pocket watch. She laid the box on the bed near her leg and turned the watch over slowly in her hand. "Oh!"

"Yes, it matches yours almost exactly."

The front of the watch had a thistle on it, identical to the one Elsie had worn around her neck save for the blue stone – that part was silver in the thistle on the watch, no stone present.

"It's lovely. Your father's, I gather?"

"Yes, it was. I remember him carrying it always, and like the items that you now own it was handed down through several generations of my family. My great-great-grandmother was Scottish, you see, and married an Englishman. It was quite the scandal in that day, but I gather she was much like you." He smirked. "She went after what she wanted, consequences be damned."

Elsie swatted his arm playfully, but said nothing.

"I've no idea how they managed it – I gather he had a bit of money – but I know he had a jeweler make the watch, pendant and ring at the same time. The thistle matches identically, of course, and the design around the ring was meant to match the leaves."

Elsie looked at the ring that now adorned her finger and gasped. "I didn't see it before, but now I can't imagine how."

"I remember my Pa having the watch after Mama had passed, but a week or two after he died I looked for it and couldn't find it. I'd always assumed David had stolen it, but apparently not."

Elsie was confused for a moment, but then it dawned on her. "The Dowager, of course. This is the box she mentioned … I had no idea what she was talking about."

He nodded. "I wondered if she mentioned it to you, but you said nothing and so I figured she hadn't. Lady Mary paid me a visit awhile back, on an errand, I guess you could say. She brought me this box, with a message: 'It's time.' I wasn't sure what that meant, but then I opened the lid. You see, the box itself was my Pa's – he'd whittled it as a gift for Mama one year, having no money but wanting her to have something lovely. I remember stumbling upon him behind the house as he was working away at it and how proud I was that he swore me to secrecy, trusting me not to tell her."

"And you didn't, of course."

"Of course. So when I saw this box in Lady Mary's hand, I assumed it contained the pendant, chain, and ring. I thought the message was a not-so-gentle push to formally propose." He paused. "What I didn't expect at all was the watch."

"No, I suspect that was quite the surprise."

He nodded, a faraway look in his eyes. Elsie reached out and took his hand in hers, the watch enclosed in their palms as he continued.

"I'd no idea she had it, you see, but as soon as I laid eyes on it I wasn't surprised at all. The handkerchief that the pieces were wrapped in must have been hers, as Mama never had one so fine. I gather she took the watch as a memento, although she must have understood the significance of how it tied him to Mama."

"I doubt it mattered," Elsie whispered.

"No, evidently not. I've been thinking a great deal about the night Lady Mary came down, and I believe that the Dowager's message was that it was time for everything: time to propose, time to take back these pieces of my family – time to make _you _my family. It sounds, well, sentimental. Don't laugh … but I realized in that moment that she had taken me in all those years ago to care for me as she could never have cared for my Pa. When I opened the box, I realized that my life was being handed back to me at last, that she no longer needed to take care of me as she always had. It's why I was so nervous when you went to see her, because I wasn't sure what she'd say, if she'd talk about things she assumed you already knew."

"She said nothing really, nothing I understood anyway." _Certainly nothing like that. I don't think she'd ever speak of that._

Charles just squeezed her in an embrace, placing kisses to her head. "I love you, Elsie Carson."

She smiled and nodded. "I love you, my man." Laying the watch back in the box, Elsie closed the lid and handed it to Charles, who placed it back on the night stand. "I always will." Reaching up, she met her lips to his as their bodies slid gently back amongst the pillows.

The remainder of the week passed in a similar fashion. Elsie was amazed at the beauty of London, and thoroughly enjoyed seeing everything through Charles's keen eyes. He was enjoying showing her all of his favorite places, marveling at her fresh perspective on those that he'd been visiting for years. They enjoyed lazy, cuddly mornings in bed, calm afternoons meandering through the city, candlelit dinners at his favorite restaurants, and loving, passionate evenings spent in one another's arms.

They'd never been so happy, and retirement had never been so appealing to them both.

*** This was my own personal experience on my wedding day (in what I refer to as my "other life") – not nervous at all until the limousine made its way around the block to pull up alongside the church…then I was TERRIFIED. I believe Elsie, whom I see as a fellow hater of being in the limelight, would have felt the same.**

**As always, I thank you for amazing REVIEWS and REBLOGS, which have boosted this story into what it became…much more than the few thousand words I'd intended when I set out on this journey.**


	16. Chapter Sixteen: At the Beginning

**A/N: So … this hurts. Last chapter. I'M emotional, and I knew what was going to happen!**

**As always, I thank you from the bottom of my music-filled heart for the reviews (of which I never thought I'd see a dozen even though we're approaching 200), reblogs on tumblr, loving words of encouragement and virtual hugs.**

**Silhouettedswallow has been a wonderful beta to me – excellent with grammar, keeping me on track, everything I never knew I needed. Thank you.**

**Check out the new cover image, done by the magnificent brenna-louise, reviewer and painter extraordinaire. She's got a starring role in this chapter.**

**Spotify playlist: username - chelsiesouloftheabbey; playlist - Music of the Heart**

**xxoo,**

**CSotA**

* * *

We were strangers, starting out on a journey,

Never dreaming what we'd have to go through.

Now here we are, I'm suddenly standing

At the beginning with you.

_No one told me I was going to find you;_

_Unexpected, what you did to my heart._

_When I lost hope, you were there to remind me_

_This is the start …_

**~"At the Beginning," Richard Marx and Donna Lewis**

* * *

**_February_**

Exactly eight days after their wedding the Carsons returned to Downton. To say it was difficult was a gross understatement; they were happy to see everyone and had until the next morning before actually returning to work, but they just didn't want to be there at all. Now that they'd had a brief taste of what the rest of their lives would entail, it wasn't enough; they'd have retired immediately upon returning if not for their promises otherwise.

Lord and Lady Grantham had given them the use of two rooms in the guest quarters. At first Charles was reluctant to accept such generosity, but a week in London with his wife made him see the benefits. The rooms were far away from where anyone else lived in the house and that suited him just fine. Their plan for the day was to conference briefly with Mr. Barrow and Miss Baxter and to meet up in their new rooms afterwards, making a list of what they would still need for furnishings and linens before heading to their staff quarters to pack up their things.

Elsie was in a wonderful mood following her meeting with Miss Baxter. The ledgers were in impeccable shape, the maids seemed unaffected by her absence, and all of her rotas for the upcoming week had already been done. _Well done indeed, Miss Baxter! At this rate, I COULD __retire today. _Elsie shook her head, knowing that wasn't really true but happy to learn she could be at ease about the upcoming transition.

Hearing Charles in his pantry with Mr. Barrow, Elsie knocked on the door to let him know that she was heading up to begin working in their new rooms. He nodded, barely sparing her a glance, distracted by having to walk the under butler through fixing what sounded to Elsie like a simple error of arithmetic. She was once more silently thankful that Mr. Barrow and Miss Baxter were old acquaintances – it seemed he'd be requiring her assistance on a regular basis if Charles couldn't make headway these next few weeks. It made Elsie realize, once again, how lucky she and Charles had been to work together all these years. They shared similar talents and skills and had always known without a doubt that they could count on one another as equals – even if she was a bit more easygoing and he a bit more traditional. She knew that the relationship between Mr. Barrow and Miss Baxter wasn't going to be as balanced; it seemed Miss Baxter would be doing her own job and watching over Mr. Barrow's shoulder … although that would not be such a bad thing, really.

Heading down the empty corridor, Elsie was reminded once again of just how far away their rooms were from the inhabited parts of the Abbey. _Thank heaven for small favors_, she thought as she walked, reflecting briefly on their time in London. _No one within earshot whatsoever. _Apprehensive though Elsie had been leading up to her wedding, having had only one not-so-wonderful experience upon which to draw, she was thrilled to have discovered that one night in her husband's arms had opened her eyes to infinite possibilities. _Even at our age_, she thought gleefully.

Unwilling to wait for Charles to arrive, Elsie found the correct key on her chatelaine and opened the door to what would serve as their sitting room for the next several months. Three steps into the doorway she stopped short, her jaw dropping nearly to the floor.

Elsie and Charles had last seen these rooms a week and a half ago. She had taken note on that day of a layer of dust that had built up in the unused rooms, and since seeing it Elsie had been dreading the beating the rugs would need. She remembered taking note during that visit of the mismatched furniture in the parlor and bedroom (which lacked a sturdy bed). She and Charles had discussed which pieces they could use and which should go into storage elsewhere, and she remembered their discomfort when discussing the bed itself. She remembered the curtains, the tables, the linens and the lack of personal decoration.

What she saw in front of her resembled _nothing _of what she remembered.

Just then, she heard Charles's footsteps coming down the corridor. When he made it to the doorway, she still hadn't quite regained the ability to speak.

"Elsie, why are you just stand- … ?" was all Charles could manage as he looked over Elsie's shoulder at the scene before them.

The parlour curtains were wide open and sunlight was coming in the windows. All odds and ends previously hanging about had been removed, and the room had clearly been given a severe cleaning and polishing. In place of random end tables and rugs they found an enormous sofa. Looking to the fireplace, they noticed two leather armchairs placed within arm's reach of one another, set so that their occupants would face the hearth. Next to the chairs were two side tables with a reading lamp on each. On the floor lay a soft blue rug, which matched wonderfully with the dark brown of the leather chairs, and the stunning brown and blue brocade of the sofa – a pattern that Elsie noted right away matched the drapes.

The bedroom was an even bigger shock. Instead of the shabby double bed that had once resided there, they found an enormous sleigh bed – _a bed that even my husband will fit in comfortably, _thought Elsie, sending a quick prayer of thanks to the heavens. The dark wood of the nightstands and bed frame gleamed in the sunlight. On the opposite wall there was a huge armoire, more than twice as large as the ones found in the staff quarters.

They knew, after having spent decades working in and examining every corner of the house and having seen furniture moved in and out over the years, that all of this was new. What they couldn't fathom was where it had come from … or when … from whom … or why. "Elsie?" Charles asked, his eyes wide. She looked at him and just shook her head. _I've no idea._

Still in shock, Elsie ventured into the bath where she found plush towels nicer than any she'd ever had in her life, along with bottles of soap and oil similar to those she had enjoyed in London. Charles's voice was coming to her from the bedroom, commenting in amazement at the softness of the spread, the quality of the fabrics, and the extra pillows along the headboard. She made her way to his side, slipping her arm around his waist for a moment, trying to take it all in.

Fires had been laid in both rooms, and Charles reached over to open the wardrobe door, a suspicion growing in his mind. Sure enough, his clothes and Elsie's were hung side by side. Charles took his wife's hand as they walked back into the sitting room, noting with wonder that someone had thoughtfully brought up the rest of their personal belongings from their rooms in the staff quarters: his books were now arranged in similar fashion to how he'd had them in his room, except that now her collection was mixed in; arranged on other shelves were her pictures, some he knew were from Becky; candles that he figured also came from her room had been placed on the fireplace mantles and were now lit, twinkling in the silent space they now occupied.

Neither of them could wrap their heads around it all; the rooms resembled those of the upstairs family in appearance and the quality of the furnishings and yet they had soft, personal touches that were clearly 'Elsie and Charles.'

Suddenly Elsie spotted something amongst all the candles over the fireplace – a note, discreetly placed against the back of the mantle. Reaching for it, she saw that it was addressed to "Mr. and Mrs. Carson." The handwriting was familiar to her, but she couldn't quite place it. She looked at Charles with an expression of puzzlement on her face as handed the envelope to him. She watched him as he tore it open and removed the note, reading it aloud:

_Dear Mr. and Mrs. Carson,_

_Please accept all you see before you as a heartfelt way to welcome you both home. _

_It is important that you start your new life together with some comforts that you can share, with a place where you can enjoy each other's presence as each day begins and ends. Upon moving into your cottage at the end of the Season, all of the furnishings of these rooms will be transported to it. _

_Please consider them a wedding gift …_

"Charles?" Elsie felt there was more to the note, but he'd stopped reading and she knew he was having trouble reining in his emotions.

"It's from Lady Mary," he whispered, tears falling at last. "It's her wedding gift to us. All of it," he said, handing his wife the note.

Elsie just shook her head in wonder, not knowing what to say. She placed the note on a table and reached out to her husband, wrapping her arms around him as he bent his head towards hers; she felt a couple of his hot tears touch her forehead. They moved over to the sofa and sat for a long while, snuggled together and holding onto one another but not saying a word, each taking time to gather their thoughts and take in the magnificence of the gift itself.

* * *

**_April_**

"Elsie, I'm heading down to meet with the workmen before they get started next week. Would you be free to join us at all?"

Elsie looked up from her desk and smiled at her husband, who – _bless him _– kept trying to involve her in every minute decision about the addition to their cottage. She trusted him implicitly and, frankly, wished she _did _have the freedom to join him, but with Anna's bairn due in less than two weeks she wasn't willing to be out of earshot of the telephone for any reason … cottage included. He was enjoying his retirement immensely, she was happy to see, and she was happier than she'd thought she could be letting him make all the decisions for their future home. He needed to be occupied, and this was just the thing.

"You know I'd love to, but … "

Charles felt his heart sink just a little, but nodded his understanding. In the beginning of the process he'd discussed all the possibilities with Elsie and they'd spent hours pouring over plans and making decisions about windows, lighting, furniture and colors. As they moved forward with more specific plans he was proud that she entrusted the decisions to him while she was working at the house. He knew her well enough anyhow to pick the things she was certain to choose for herself … _and she knows it. _He shook his head and looked at his wife affectionately. He missed her when they weren't together, more so since he'd retired.

"I know, I know … Anna. Well, if you do change your mind you know where I'll be. But even if you don't I should have a more detailed schedule tonight of when everything will be happening."

He moved forward for a kiss, which Elsie provided enthusiastically. They were not quite as afraid of physical intimacies as they once had been, but they still needed to be professional.

Elsie broke away first. "Charles, the door … "

He shot a glance at the doorway, then peeked up and down the corridor to see if anyone was milling about. Rushing back, he kissed her again, rather passionately.

"What?" he grumbled after she pushed him away. "The coast was clear."

She just shook her head and chuckled. "Good-bye, love. I'll see you at dinner."

As her husband turned to walk away, she may have given him a little pinch.

* * *

Elsie heard the telephone ring as she was finishing up her afternoon's work, but she really didn't think much about it. In the past it would have been Charles who answered it, but he was now officially retired and was presently at their cottage. She assumed Mr. Barrow would have the wherewithal to take care of it but, _no_, it rang incessantly, finally driving her to distraction. _Not a good impression, really, if the good servants of Downton Abbey cannot manage to answer the telephone. _She weighed her options: Charles upset because someone other than the butler answered the phone versus _no one _answering the phone. Deciding, she made her way across to the pantry.

"Downton Abbey, this is the housek-" she managed.

"Mrs. Carson! You need to come quickly," came Isobel Crawley's voice over the line. "It's Anna … the baby …"

Elsie slammed the earpiece back down onto the phone, sparing a brief moment wondering if she'd broken the thing, then ran out into the hall.

"Miss Baxter, it's Anna. I'm going down to the Bates cottage. Find Mr. Bates now, please, and have him come as soon as possible."

"Of course, Mrs. Carson. Send Anna all our love. I'll let Her Ladyship and Lady Mary know right away."

"Thank you," Elsie said, grabbing her coat and hat and flying out the door. She knew from past experience that it took her approximately fifteen minutes to walk to the Bates' cottage; she made it in nine.

As Elsie approached the cottage she heard a bloodcurdling scream. _Anna!_ _Oh, dear God please let everything be okay …_ Taking a deep breath, she opened the front door, not even bothering to knock as she knew Anna, Mrs. Crawley, and hopefully by now Dr. Clarkson would all be upstairs. Elsie had only seen one birth in her life and that was Becky, so it had been over fifty years. She knew some advances had been made, but she was still wary of what kind of scene she'd find. Anna was a small girl, and the bairn seemed to be so big already … and it was a bit earlier than they'd expected him or her to arrive. Elsie was wondering if Anna's insistence to give birth at home had perhaps not been a wise one. _I wish Charles were here!_

* * *

Miss Baxter finally found Mr. Bates in His Lordship's dressing room where he was returning a pair of trousers that had needed mending. "Oh, thank goodness," she gasped, having practically run all over the Abbey looking for him.

"Miss Baxter?" His face fell suddenly as he realized why she was frantically searching him out. "Anna?"

"Yes, Mrs. Carson took the phone call and is headed there now. I've let Lady Mary know, and she'll tell the others. You're going to be a father tonight, I think," she beamed at him.

"Thank you, Miss Baxter. I've not yet dressed His Lordship though," he began.

"I'll take care of him," came Charles's voice from the doorway. "I just returned a few minutes ago and Lady Mary told me. I'll take care of His Lordship – you go." Charles clapped his friend's arm, squeezing it quickly before releasing it.

"Thank you, Mr. Carson." With that, Mr. Bates was off.

Charles was pensive as he prepared Lord Grantham's attire for the evening. _The baby is early, isn't it? Is that healthy? Oh, Anna …_ He was very grateful that his wife would be there; she was amazingly good at maintaining a calm atmosphere when one was needed, and he knew that if anyone could soothe Anna until her husband arrived it would be Elsie. It made him wonder fleetingly how it would have been if they'd married long ago, if it had been Elsie who was preparing to bring _their _child into the world. While it saddened him that they'd never had that chance, the thought of being in John's position terrified him. _No, it's better this way._ Nodding firmly to himself, he finished brushing the jacket in his hands.

He had a feeling it was going to be a very, very long night.

* * *

"Mrs. Crawley?" Elsie called as she deposited her coat on the rack by the door. "Anna?"

A whimper and then a cry that told her Anna was in a great deal of pain made their way to Elsie's ears. She rushed up the stairs to Anna's room.

"Anna …" she gasped, and made her way to her dear girl's side in an instant, grasping her hand. She bit her lip and looked at Mrs. Crawley's face, knowing as soon as she did that things were not as they should be. She caught Mrs. Crawley's eyes. _What's going on? _ Mrs. Crawley gave the tiniest shake of her head, sending back a clear message of her own: _Not now … not here._

Elsie turned to Anna. "Oh, lass, how are you holding up? Childbirth is definitely not for the faint of heart, but you're the strongest woman I know." She squeezed her hand, and Anna looked up at her with utter fear showing all over her features.

"Mrs. Carson, something is wrong," she whispered. "It cannot possibly be like this for everyone. This is … _gasp, breathing, gasp, breathing …_ awful."

Elsie smiled at her. "In my limited experience, which mind you was some fifty years ago almost … it is most definitely difficult. My Mam said it was the worst pain she'd ever felt (_well, that's saying something now, isn't it Els, when you think about it?_) and that it was also the best thing she ever did. You'll be fine, my girl. John is on his way now." Elsie never called him that, but she sensed the need to calm Anna as much as possible.

"How far apart?" Elsie asked Mrs. Crawley. Elsie had a vague recollection that things would progress more rapidly as the evening went on, of course, and thought she remembered something about five minutes between contractions being important.

"About fifteen minutes, and she's been dozing in between, thank goodness," came the reply. Then, to Anna, "I'm going to have Mrs. Carson help me bring a few things upstairs. I promise we'll be back before the next one, alright?"

Elsie marveled at the woman's ability to calm a patient; truly, Mrs. Crawley seemed a different person bedside than she was when surrounded by the family. With them, she seemed either overly familiar or, sometimes, the polar opposite: stiff and uncomfortable. But here, with Anna, she was in her element even though she'd not worked for years. _She must have been an amazing mother and a very gifted nurse indeed._

"Okay," whispered Anna, drifting off. Elsie caught Mrs. Crawley's eye and followed her out of the room and down the stairs.

In the kitchen, Elsie put a huge kettle on the hob while Mrs. Crawley grabbed a few sandwiches from the icebox. "It's not good, Mrs. Carson," she began. "Anna called the office but Ri-… _Dr. Clarkson_ is delivering Mrs. MacIntyre's baby, believe it or not. I left him a note on his desk and came myself."

Elsie noticed the slip of the name and the flush that crept up the other woman's face. _Well, well … it's about time … and she was just hanging about his office, was she? _"Thank goodness you were there. You've assisted with childbirth before, I presume?"

"I've been present for three, not including Matthew's," she answered. "Each went flawlessly … and Anna's does not resemble them." Suddenly, Elsie saw the fear in Mrs. Crawley's eyes.

"Oh, dear God …" she whispered.

"I cannot be certain, but Anna doesn't seem right, exactly. I am hesitant to say anything out of turn, mind you, but with the amount of back pain she's describing I fear the baby's head is not in the right place. Not fully breech, but not entirely correct. I think it's what's causing a great deal of her agony."

Elsie nodded, knowing that Mrs. Crawley wouldn't have spoken the words if she weren't sure of herself.

Mrs. Crawley closed the kitchen door, and then turned back to the housekeeper. "Mrs. Hughes, I know what happened to Anna," she said quietly. "I am certain that she's fine physically, but I imagine the terror she's feeling is in some way connected to that hideous experience. I'm not altogether sure she'll appreciate Dr. Clarkson's presence … "

Just then, the door flew open. "Anna!" came John's voice. He made his way up the stairs just as the kettle began to boil.

Elsie looked at Mrs. Crawley. "Go up. He'll need you to explain everything to him as he's sure to be terrified for her," said Elsie. "I'll be up in a moment." She started reciting things from a long-ago memory. "Hot water, clean towels, string, a sterile scissor … anything else?"

"That'll do for now, but the sandwiches are for us. Have some now while you're down here, I've already eaten two. I doubt we'll convince Mr. Bates to leave her side long enough to eat a thing, but it's going to be a long night for us all and I know you've not eaten … her contractions are closing in on one another, but not very quickly."

Elsie nodded. "Very well. And, Mrs. Crawley? Thank you so very much for telephoning."

"She wouldn't stop asking …" Mrs. Crawley said, a strange look on her face. "She kept mumbling … I thought she was hallucinating for a moment, and wondered how to contact …" she drifted off.

"I'm sorry, I don't understand … she was hallucinating?" Elsie was becoming more and more afraid.

"No, no, I realized she wasn't … after a moment she said your name and it clicked." She paused, then gave Elsie a smile full of kindness along with, Elsie was surprised to see, something like admiration in her eyes. "She said … she said she needed a _mother's_ presence by her side." With that, she headed up, leaving a stunned, emotional Elsie behind in her wake.

Anna's pain level was extraordinary, and when Dr. Clarkson arrived he seemed concerned. Anna had adamantly refused any medication when the doctor told her there was a chance it could affect the baby, that too much morphine could enter the baby's bloodstream and make the first few minutes of life difficult. When he examined her to see how far dilated she was, he confirmed Mrs. Crawley's suspicion that the baby's head was not properly aligned with the birth canal. He had performed deliveries in the past where he'd had to utilize forceps, and he loathed it, but there was no other way to ensure that the baby's neck wouldn't be broken. He explained to Mr. Bates in the most clinical words possible what the process would entail, how the baby needed to be repositioned for delivery, and when Anna drifted off her husband convinced the doctor to administer a very small amount of pain medication when the time was ready. John knew Anna would want to kill him when she figured it out, but she was already in so much pain and he wasn't sure how much more she (or he) could take. Reluctant to go against his patient's wishes but understanding what the pain would be like without it, Dr. Clarkson prepared a small syringe and set it aside.

Elsie observed the entire scene with a mixture of interest and horror. The doctor (ever the professional, as she well knew … ) and the husband, at odds over the woman who was barely able to speak up for herself anymore because she was in so much pain, facing off in front of the woman who wanted to stand up for Anna's wishes but who, as a nurse, understood the value of a patient in less pain. It was a tense atmosphere, something which Elsie usually hated. She simply sat and held Anna's hand and, surprisingly, her own tongue as well. _It's not your place, Els … you're here to hold her hand and calm her, that's it._

Elsie sat beside Anna, wiping her brow and holding her hand, speaking soothing words to her as the night wore on. Dr. Clarkson listened as Elsie spoke softly to Anna, sang to her even, and a couple of times the doctor heard Elsie slip into Gaelic. She seemed unaware that she'd done so and he wondered how tired she must be, but despite repeated suggestions that she get some rest Elsie refused to leave Anna's side. Dr. Clarkson knew that Anna had gone to Mrs. Carson the night of her attack, needing her support and help, and he knew that the older woman was trying to calm and protect Anna from her fears tonight. His years as a doctor had opened his eyes to a great deal about human interaction, and he understood that the support women provided to one another during times of struggle should never be underestimated. _As long as Anna is calm, this woman can sing or say whatever the hell she wants. Thank God she's here._

The hours passed on, and Anna's contractions got closer together, coming harder and faster, until Mr. Bates had to leave the room to collect himself. Elsie followed him, worried at the look in his eyes. Dr. Clarkson asked them to stay outside for a bit as it was time for the forceps, but he asked Mrs. Crawley to stay and encourage Anna to push. He felt the forceps were so horribly invasive, so … _violent_, and given Anna's recent history with violence he definitely wanted Mrs. Crawley's presence to help steady Anna. _Yes, man … and she'll steady you a bit as well._

"I can't bear it, Mrs. Carson," Mr. Bates admitted, tears on his face. "I can't bear seeing her in so much agony."

"Mr. Bates – _John_ – you have no choice. If you love her, you need to button it all up until that wee bairn enters this world. Anna _needs _you. You've both hoped for this for _so_ long, and the doctor is righting the baby's position now, after which he's assured us all that the delivery will be fairly straightforward." She put her best Scottish dragon housekeeper face on. "Get back in that room, Mr. Bates."

Just then, they heard Anna scream. "You'd better come in, quickly!" came Mrs. Crawley's voice.

* * *

Charles was confused. He was once again on the beach in Brighton, paddling in the water, but when he turned to take Elsie's hand she wasn't there. _Where is she? I can't do this without her._ He walked on, calling her name and looking in all directions, hoping he hadn't missed his opportunity to be alone with her and talk a bit away from the others. _Maybe today will be the day you tell her how you feel. Or not. _Suddenly the ocean became warmer, almost too warm, _very warm indeed_, on his legs. He looked down, but instead of water he saw a mass of red. _Fire? No …_ Reaching down, he felt the strange, soft redness and, as he touched it he heard a shrill, screeching noise. _What is that?_

Trying desperately to figure out where the sound was coming from, Charles turned his head again. _Elsie! Where are you?_ Then he felt a sharp pain in his neck, causing his eyes to fly open. Cursing the sunlight pouring in the window, he shut them again quickly as he heard the noise again. _The telephone! Who on earth is calling at this hour? Wait … how am I hearing the telephone?_

Opening his eyes again, Charles realized he'd fallen asleep in Elsie's sitting room while waiting for her to return from the Bates cottage. The phone was still ringing, and he tossed her red afghan on the floor as he ran to Mr. Barrow's office to answer it.

"Downton Abbey, this is Charles Carson speaking."

"Hello, Granddad," came his wife's sweet, sleepy voice.

"What?"

"Silly man," she replied. "What do you think? Anna's had the baby! Have I woken ye?"

"Yes, what time is it? Is she okay? Is the baby okay?"

"Six in the morning – I can't believe I woke ye. Ay, she's fine, the bairn is fine, and all three of them are sleeping peacefully."

Charles was clearing the cobwebs from his head as he listened to his wife's voice. "Your accent is thicker, love. Have you had any sleep at all?"

"No," she answered honestly. "It was a long, harrowing night, the details of which I'll spare you for the moment. But our Anna did just as she was supposed to – she was truly amazing. Charles, it was the most miraculous night."

"I'm so glad you were there, love. May I walk down? I understand if they don't want company, but you've not slept and I won't have you walking home unaccompanied."

Elsie laughed softly. "I'd like that, actually, and I am so tired I won't put up even the tiniest fight. I can't wait to see you."

"Oh … and Granny?" he said with a smile she could hear.

"Yes?"

"What sex is the 'wee bairn'?"

"Oh, my!" she said, remembering back to the time Master George was born and Charles had forgotten to ask about that. "A girl … a lovely, precious, dark-haired, wee lass."

* * *

Elsie waited for Charles downstairs, where she and Mrs. Crawley had just finished what seemed like their hundredth cuppa. Dr. Clarkson had gone home an hour ago but the women wanted to remain until both parents were awake, just in case there were any problems.

Thinking it was her fatigue that was loosening her tongue, and not really caring, Elsie asked, "Mrs. Crawley, may I ask you something?"

"Of course, Mrs. Carson."

"Dr. Clarkson?"

"What about him?" asked Mrs. Crawley, who was suddenly blushing ferociously and looking anywhere but at Elsie.

_Oh Elsie, why on earth did you have to say anything?_

She sighed. "I only wish to say this once, and you may ignore me if you like."

"Yes?"

"I presume he knows how you feel about him? I certainly do hope so. I can tell you firsthand that the longer you wait, the more time you spend wondering about how your life could be but not actually _living _it at all."

At that, Mrs. Crawley smiled widely. "You are absolutely correct, Mrs. Carson. He does know, we have, well … discussed it, hypothetically, but I think we've come to some sort of understanding. I was confused for such a long time, but when everything went south with Lord Merton and his atrocious son, Richard was there for me, to support and help me as I made my way along." She noticed too late the slip of dropping his given name, but found she didn't care much anymore. "I appreciate your thoughts, you know. In fact … if you would … I'd like you to call me Isobel. I've always admired you, Mrs. Carson, more than most in that house truth be told, and I think we could be great friends. Please."

Elsie thought about it, then reached over to take the woman's hand. "If you'll call me Elsie – only never at the big house, if you please – then I'd be honored to."

Isobel nodded, and Elsie rose from the table as she heard a knock at the door. Rushing over to open it, she missed her new friend's smile and shake of the head.

"Charles!" Elsie gasped. "Are you ever a sight for sore eyes!"

As her husband came through the doorway he wrapped his loving arms around her. "I'm here, love," he murmured quietly, kissing her head. "How are you, besides completely dead on your feet?"

"Wonderful," she replied.

Just then Charles spotted Mrs. Crawley, but he refused to relinquish his hold on his wife. "Mrs. Crawley, good morning. I gather you've all had quite a night."

"We have, but I'm thankful you're here Mr. Carson. I'm just going to tidy up in here; please, head on up and let Elsie introduce you to your new granddaughter."

Halfway up the stairs he realized that she'd not said 'Mrs. Carson.' "Elsie?" he asked quietly.

"Yes … it seems we are to be friends … with Isobel," she said as he husband winced, the familiarity not comfortable for him at all. "And, I think, with our resident doctor."

Charles raised a bushy eyebrow. "Honestly? Thank goodness he finally got around to it."

Elsie snorted a laugh – _another sign that she's exhausted, _Charles thought – and squeezed his hand. "Shhh … be very, very quiet."

Charles followed her into the room, diverting his eyes from the bed where Anna and her husband lay, her head on his arm, sound asleep. He headed over to the bassinet and peeked inside.

"She's so tiny," he whispered reverently. "I always forget how tiny they are."

Elsie looked at him with wonder: her tall, blustery, buttoned-up butler, a man who could hold his own in the presence of the most important figureheads in this country and beyond, practically brought to his knees at the sight of the wee lass who slept before them. She couldn't help but tease him just a bit.

"Is there a need to get this sentimental, Mr. Carson?"

He looked at her, leaning over and kissing her gently on the lips. "Yes, _Mrs. Hughes_," he teased back. "I'd say that the need for sentimentality _today_ is very great."

Elsie reached into the basket and lifted the babe, looking at Charles with a question in her eyes.

"Maybe I shouldn't," he said, looking a bit afraid and waving his hands nervously.

"Nonsense," she said, holding the wee one out to him until he extended his hands. _If he put those hands together he'd hold her entire body, just about_. And then, just like he'd been doing it every day of his life, Charles tucked their granddaughter into the crook of his elbow, softly crooning to her in his beautiful voice, a gentle lilt to it that Elsie hadn't heard in many, many years.

"Well, hello little 'wee bairn,'" he said, his eyes twinkling at Elsie as he mastered her accent almost flawlessly. She just shook her head. "What's her name?"

"Brenna Elisabeth," she replied quietly. Charles raised his eyebrows, and she nodded. "Brenna for John's mother's middle name … and Elisabeth … for me," she whispered.

"Well, then, she shall be very blessed indeed." Elsie put her arms around his waist, holding him and leaning on him as they watched the tiny fingers reach out from the swaddling and latch onto his jacket. No more words were spoken – or needed – as they marveled at the amount of miraculous love in that one little room.

Anna woke shortly thereafter, not surprised at all to see Charles holding her baby. "Good morning, Granddad. Please take your wife home – she needs to rest."

"Anna, congratulations, my dear girl," he said, handing the babe to her. "I am honored that we will be able to be part of this one's life and to be able to call her our granddaughter. Thank you," he said, reaching over to place a kiss to Anna's head.

"It's we who are honored, Mr. Carson," replied Anna. "You're the only family we have, really."

Charles just nodded, unable to speak. Turning to his wife, he said, "Let's go home, dear. I think this little family needs some time to get to know each other."

Elsie nodded, sad to be leaving but relieved at the thought of getting into her bed within the hour. "Call us if you need anything, Anna. Between myself and Miss Baxter we'll be sure everyone knows. You just let us know when you're up for visitors, alright?"

Anna nodded. "Can you come back this evening, if you're free?"

"Absolutely." And with that, Charles led his wife downstairs, folded her into her coat, and half-carried her home. The servants' corridor was bustling, and they got a brief greeting from one of the maids, but anyone who took one look at Mr. Carson's face didn't even bother to try and engage his wife in conversation. He guided her upstairs to their rooms, and helped her undress. He practically lifted her into bed, tucking the blanket around her and realizing she'd already fallen asleep. Leaning over, he kissed her on the forehead and headed downstairs. With any luck Miss Baxter would let him help with Elsie's chores, and if he was _very _quick about things they'd be able to nip back down to the Bates cottage after dinner.

* * *

"So, I've got the final plans for the addition to the cottage, and the written estimate is here," Charles said, handing a slim folder to Elsie. "What do you think?"

She opened it as she sipped her tea. They were tucked away in her sitting room downstairs, a brief lull in the activities of the day finally providing them with time to say more than a few words to one another in passing. Elsie had slept until noon, but then she'd forced herself to get up and was glad she did as the day had proven to be a trying and busy one indeed.

"Oh, this does look lovely. It's different than what I'd imagined, larger I think, but I truly love it. And the figures are about what we thought. Well done, Charles!" She beamed at him with a look of utter adoration, unable to believe that in three months' time she'd be retired alongside this lovely man and, if all went according to schedule, fully enjoying their new home.

"The basic framing, roof and walls should be completed in about two months' time. I'll spend the days overseeing parts of the project, but I don't want to be a nuisance. I think I'll spend some time with the gardener at the Dower House, actually – he's got a few ideas for our little garden that he wishes to share with me. Anyhow, after the construction is finished everything will be painted, and by the end of the July we should be all set to move furniture in. We _might _even be able to move in a couple of weeks before the family returns."

"Excellent," sighed Elsie. "I'm tired, love, and I confess that I'll be glad when the family heads to London next week. From what I've been told only Lady Mary will be remaining. Madge will accompany Her Ladyship and either Miss Baxter or I will attend to Lady Mary."

"What about Lady Edith?" Charles asked. "Surely she'll be staying at Grantham House?"

Elsie looked guilty, biting furiously on her lip, and her husband was immediately suspicious. "Elsie … ?"

Elsie steeled herself for his reaction, closing her eyes. "Lady Edith is moving permanently to London, Charles." Then, after a brief pause, she added, "With Miss Marigold."

"What?!"

Elsie opened her eyes, plowing ahead. _Best to get it all out now. _"Charles, surely even you realize that the child … well, they're moving anyhow. Her job requires her to be at the office almost daily. She's purchased a home and is hiring a nanny who will double as lady's maid. It's a very simple, very modern, and very economical plan." _In short, it's a very Lady Edith sort of plan._

"And how, may I ask, do you know all of this?" Charles was desperately trying to wrap his brain around the words spilling out of his wife's mouth. Pieces of things he'd only entertained as wild suspicions were rapidly falling into place.

Elsie looked at her lap. "She told me several weeks ago, just before you retired. She asked for my assistance in posting for the nanny position; I helped her to draft the advertisement."

Charles was stunned. "I cannot believe you said nothing about this!"

She looked up at him, eyes wide, a bit put off by his tone. "It was not my news to share, Charles, not at the time anyhow. I knew how you'd react and I didn't think it would serve us well for you to spend the last days of your career here in a mood." Her eyes now contained a flame of the Scottish fire he'd been so used to seeing over the years, and Charles knew he was going to lose this argument.

"You're right," he sighed.

"I'm sorry … I'm not sure I can be hearing this right?" Elsie said with a smirk.

He smiled. "You're right, love. Mind you, I do not exactly approve of the decision as it's not a situation that befits a member of this family, but I realize that it's not my place to give approval or not. And you are absolutely correct in saying that having this knowledge then would have affected my ability to perform my job."

"I agree that it's not the 'done thing,' Charles, but when has Lady Edith _ever _been an active member of this family? She's always lived her life in the shadow of her sisters, taking a less participatory role in things. Her time spent working with the soldiers during the war was the first time I ever remember thinking she was coming into her own person. She needs to do this, she needs to forge a life for herself that means something. That young woman is intelligent, Charles, and she needs to foster that keen mind. Surely you can understand that."

He pondered her words, rolling the ideas around in his mind. "Hm. Yes, I suppose you are right. She sounds much like someone else I know, when you put it like that."

Elsie smiled at him, nodding. "You know I usually am right, dear."

And then her husband continued speaking, his words astonishing her. "I suppose it's best that she leave then, head somewhere she can take a more participatory role in the life of her child. It's important that Miss Marigold grow up in a place where she can be loved and cared for by her mother, and London is big enough that, after a few years, people will forget."

Elsie reached over and wrapped her arms around Charles. "I knew you'd get there in the end," she said softly.

"You mean you didn't realize, Mrs. Carson? You've married a modern man!"

* * *

_**July**_

"Mrs. Carson?"

Miss Baxter's voice pulled Elsie from her reverie. "Yes, Miss Baxter. I'm sorry. What can I do for you?"

The maid entered the sitting room and shut the door. "I just wanted to see if you needed any help. I'm sure your last week is difficult for you. Is there anything I can do?"

Elsie appreciated the sentiment. She had been trying to pack her things but wasn't making much progress. She didn't want to leave an entirely empty space for Miss Baxter; Elsie had, in fact, inherited several of the items in the room from the former housekeeper, but that was so long ago that Elsie was attached to them now, finding it difficult to let them go. _The silhouettes should remain, definitely, and the lamp. Perhaps the tea set … maybe not._

"I am having trouble making decisions, Miss Baxter, regarding what to bring. Indecision is unusual for me, so I'm chalking it up to age," she chuckled. "But I'll be fine, thank you. How is everything with the girls?"

"Just fine, Mrs. Carson. The cleaning is actually ahead of schedule, and we'll be more than ready for the family to return from London."

Elsie nodded. "Thank you, Miss Baxter. I'll see you at dinner?"

Miss Baxter understood the cue to leave. "Very well, Mrs. Carson. If you do need anything, please just let me know." The quiet woman exited the parlour, leaving the door open behind her.

Elsie sat at her desk and looked around, mentally putting things into boxes at last. _Ledgers to stay … these books are coming, but perhaps she'd enjoy this one ... Ah, that lovely pen Charles gave you last Christmas – that's coming … Oh, to hell with it, the tea set is coming too. _She'd never be able to imagine the cups in anyone else's hands – in anyone else's _home _– but hers and Charles's. _I'll buy her a new one._ Nodding firmly, she rose from her seat and continued packing. _Three days … three more days. _

She didn't expect to feel so broken-hearted.

* * *

"Lady Mary has fixed it all," said Anna. She and Elsie were seated in Anna's kitchen the next day, Elsie holding Brenna and marveling at the power of the wee bairn's grasp as she held Elsie's pinkie finger. "Brenna will be looked after in the nursery, alongside Master George, while I'm working. She reasoned that the salary for the nanny had not changed when Miss Sybbie left and so therefore an increase would not be needed. She didn't leave room for negotiation."

"I am sure she didn't! This is Lady Mary we're talking about."

Anna giggled. "I know. And I'll be able to continue nursing the baby because my duties are spaced out so well. So long as Lady Mary isn't traveling I don't foresee a problem, but she's already assured me that if she goes anywhere in the next few months she just won't bring a lady's maid. She's been ever so kind, I am truly grateful to her. If I'd had to leave my job we'd have managed, but it'll be so much easier for us with me staying on."

"Well, once this little one is weaned you are welcome to leave her with us whenever you need to."

"Thank you so very much. For everything, I mean. You and Mr. Carson have provided so much for us both. I know I keep saying it but I really can't tell you how important that has been. I truly don't think John and I would have survived without you, Mrs. Carson, not through any of it really."

"Please, Anna … it's Elsie now," she reminded gently.

"Yes, well … that may take me some time to get used to," Anna said, laughing.

Elsie hadn't seen Anna so happy since Mr. Bates was released from prison. _Motherhood suits her, it suits her very well indeed. This is the best thing that could ever have happened to them. _Elsie had kept her concerns secreted away in her mind over the course of Anna's pregnancy, worried about Anna's still fragile emotions that crept up at times and particularly concerned with the possibility of the 'baby blues' that Isobel had mentioned, but so far Anna seemed completely fine. Since Charles was retired, he and Elsie visited the Bates' for dinner every Tuesday and Friday and each time, as they walked home arm in arm, they discussed how much happier Anna seemed. John took his half-day on Fridays and was able to join them then. Elsie and Charles marveled at the change in the him, too; aspects of his true personality now came shining through, things that Elsie was sure had only been seen previously by Anna. His eyes lit up at the sight and sounds of his daughter. He was able to relax when he was home and, when they visited, Elsie and Charles saw barely a trace of the formal, reserved valet from the Abbey. The Carsons were thrilled, touched to be able to participate in the intimacy of this family life. _Who'd have ever thought?_

"Have you packed?" Anna's question pulled Elsie back to the present moment.

"Yes, I think I'm all set. It was so hard, Anna … all those years, and now the room looking so empty and, well … sad." _All those memories …_

Anna reached over and put her hand on Elsie's arm. "Soon you'll be in your new home full-time, making _new _memories. The ones from the big house can live in your heart forever, you know."

Elsie smiled lovingly at the woman before her – once her protégée, now her friend, almost a daughter – and nodded. "I know … but it's harder leaving than I thought it would be." She smiled at the memory. "This wonderful life with Charles truly began in that room. Nights over cups of tea or glasses of sherry, forging a partnership, a friendship, and then something more … I can't help but feel like I'm leaving that behind even though I know that makes no sense."

Anna got up and reached her arms around Elsie from behind, enveloping both her and the baby in a hug. "You know you'll bring all of that with you," she said quietly, placing a kiss on Elsie's cheek.

Elsie nodded. "I know. I just won't feel better about it until it's happened." She leaned over and kissed her granddaughter's head. "But it's time to move on, isn't it, little one?"

Brenna cooed her reply, the sound making Elsie's heart soar.

* * *

Charles knocked on Elsie's sitting room door. She looked up as he came in and immediately moved to wrap her arms around his middle.

"All set?" he asked quietly.

She just nodded, not trusting herself to speak.

"You've said good-bye to everyone then?"

Another nod. "Except Beryl – she refused," Elsie said with a chuckle. "She's got her half-day Tuesday and is coming for tea."

"Okay, then. And … Mrs. Baxter?"

"All set," Elsie repeated, remembering how her morning had gone ...

"_Miss Baxter, could you spare a moment after breakfast?"_

"_Of course, Mrs. Carson."_

_They sat facing one another on the settee in the housekeeper's parlour and Elsie handed Miss Baxter (almost Mrs. Baxter, she'd thought) two gift boxes – one large, one much smaller. Miss Baxter looked at her, puzzled. _

"_Both requirements for a successful housekeeper," Elsie had said._

_Miss Baxter laid the smaller box on the settee and opened the larger one first, removing from it a lovely teapot – white, covered in small, blue forget-me-nots – and two cups with saucers that matched. _

"_Use it frequently," Elsie said with a smile in her eyes. "Tea soothes the soul; it can calm an argument, and it can help you to solve a great many problems."_

_Miss Baxter nodded, remembering all the times Mrs. Carson – then Mrs. Hughes – would order one of the staff into her office and close the door, managing somehow while sequestered away inside to snuff out disagreements and difficulties of all sorts. "Thank you. It's lovely," she said. "And forget-me-nots …" she said, nodding her understanding. _

"_A reminder to remember who you are, that you are strong and capable and more than ready to do the job. Whenever you feel that you're not, sit down with a cuppa. Soothe YOURSELF __when you need to."_

_Miss Baxter nodded, finding no words that would adequately express her appreciation for the kind words._

_Elsie then picked up the smaller box and held it out. "And this is yours by right," she said quietly._

_Miss Baxter opened the box, already having suspecting what she'd find inside. She gasped when she'd realized it was not the chatelaine she had become accustomed to seeing on Mrs. Carson's belt but rather a sparkling new one. _

"_Oh, Mrs. Carson … it's lovely, thank you." Her delicate fingers removed it from the box, and Elsie reached into her pocket and pulled out her own chatelaine, unclipping the keys from each ring, and handing them to the new housekeeper._

"_Consider it my token of thanks for the support you've given to me. I'll never forget the love and time you put into making my wedding dress, and your quiet caring for both myself and everyone else downstairs has not gone unnoticed."_

_Miss Baxter nodded. "Please, Mrs. Carson, do stop in when you visit the house, for a cup of tea if nothing else."_

_Elsie nodded. "I will do, thank you."_

… She took a deep breath, and raised her head to seek out her husband's loving gaze. "Well, Mr. Carson. I think that's it."

Charles looked deep into his wife's sparkling blue eyes, losing himself for a moment. "I could live an entire other lifetime, Elsie, and never convey how much I love you at this very moment." He reached around his back to grasp her hands and kiss them, then released them and lifted the last box of belongings that she would be taking to the cottage, tucking it under his arm.

Elsie grasped his hand as they walked out into the corridor. She was grateful that not a soul was in sight – she'd had enough of sad good-byes earlier.

_How funny_, she thought … Elsie had spent just over twenty years of her life in love with the man at her side. Twenty years of thinking he couldn't possibly return her feelings even though, deep down inside, she had realized long ago that he had the capacity for giving and, perhaps, receiving great love. She spent two decades not speaking up about what was living inside of her because she didn't think that he could love anything – _anyone _– more than this house in which they now stood …and because, even if he could, she never felt that she'd be worthy of it. And for much of that time, she would have been right: he _hadn't _been ready.

But somewhere along the way, she'd noticed a shift in his feelings and, if she were honest, in her own as well. She became more respectful of his devotion to the Granthams, more observant of the little ways in which he managed to show his true self to her, and, eventually, she realized that he'd been giving her the ammunition with which she could attack that wall that had been built around his own heart. She realized that once she accepted that, there had been no turning back. Losing Becky and returning to Argyll had pushed her into his arms even more and opened Elsie up to the possibility of a real life outside of 'the housekeeper,' a life with friends and a new family, a life far richer than anything she'd ever dared to dream.

"All set?" he asked again.

Nodding her head slowly, Elsie looked up at Charles and saw that he was giving her a look of such love and devotion that it brought tears to his own eyes as well as hers.

"Yes, love," she answered. "Let's go _home_."

_**The End ... for now**_


End file.
